Enigma
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: It starts on a dark night. Two people who can't leave. No outside contact. How much danger are they in? Dark and angsty story. 13 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story has been sitting on my computer for a little while (a year and a half). I got it nearly finished and then got distracted with other WIPs, but I really wanted to finish it and I finally did (I now have one WIP that's been sitting around for years begging to be finished...other WIPs, but no others that have been sitting around for a long time). I was experimenting with a slightly different style. For almost the entire story, there is only one setting and only two characters. It's a dark, angsty story (big surprise), but it's also going to feel very claustrophobic because there's just the one location. That's the idea, anyway. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** As always, I'm not making money off this story. I don't own the characters.

* * *

 **Enigma  
** by Enthusiastic Fish

 _It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma; but perhaps there is a key.  
_ _~Winston Churchill_

 **Chapter 1**

The mumbling woke him up. Again. And as he always did, the man got out of bed and stumbled through the darkness to the other bed.

"Can...cnnn...no...baaa...can..." Over and over.

He knelt down on the floor and put his hand on the other man's arm as he mumbled incoherently. He left it there until the mumbling eased off and the man appeared to go back to sleep. The physical contact seemed to help, and he was willing to do it if it was necessary.

After a few minutes, it was silent once more, except for the slightly irregular breathing of the man on the bed.

The man on the floor sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, rubbing the heels of his hands together. He tried to keep quiet, but every waking moment was unending and tedious. Even when those waking moments were at two in the morning. If only he dared contact anyone. If only he knew _what_ was going on. The problem was that he didn't. He only knew that they were closing in on three weeks in this dump and, if there wasn't some clarity soon, he was going to have to take a risk and reach out to the outside world in hopes of figuring out what had caused this.

Tomorrow would be the day to check the bandages and replace them. It would also be bath day, something that heartily embarrassed him but was a necessity with the wounds that could still face infection.

Had this been the best option? Should he have hidden out here, away from the hospital his companion obviously still needed? But then, he'd almost been killed at the hospital. How had they tracked in on him so quickly? Those thoughts drove him to his feet and he started to pace back and forth, still rubbing the heels of his hands together.

 _That_ was why he had fled the hospital and had spent the last three weeks hiding out, contacting no one. He didn't know who the bad guys were. He knew a few of the good guys, but he didn't know if there were bad guys around them.

He didn't turn on a light, even though he was pretty sure it wouldn't make any difference to his companion. The sound might, though. He sat down again and tried to be quiet, making sure that nothing else would disturb his companion's slumber. As lonely and tedious as it was when his companion was asleep, it was almost worse when he was awake.

He wondered how much longer this was going to last. Certainly, in the last couple of days, things had seemed to be improving, somewhat. But there was still this incoherence, confusion, and general lack of connection to the world. Well, the doctor _had_ said that it was a waiting game, and he could wait here as well as anywhere. It wasn't like there had been any particular plan to speed things up. It was just about waiting. Waiting and hoping for healing.

But for how much longer?

He sighed again.

How much longer could this really work? They'd run out of food eventually, and it was dangerous to leave him alone and perhaps even more dangerous to be seen multiple times in the same area. He'd stocked up as much as possible before getting here, and once, he had chanced leaving to replenish his supplies.

Thankfully, his companion could eat. He had to be fed mostly in liquid form, but he could eat. That had been the deciding factor. Everything else, since he was breathing on his own, could be dealt with, but if he couldn't eat on his own, taking him from the hospital would have been signing a death warrant. It wasn't like he could go to the corner market and buy an IV stand, a bag and whatever the stuff was that they put in the IV bags.

He sat on the floor until his rear end began to go numb. Finally, he got up and felt his way back to bed. He climbed in and lay there for a long time, hoping for sleep, fearing what sleep might bring.

How much longer?

Eventually, he slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He awoke. It felt like being thrown out of a pool of water onto the hard concrete on the side. He lay there, breathing in and out, wondering where he was, what was happening and what was going to happen next. He also had this mortal fear of being killed. He knew that it was important that he stay wherever he was. He couldn't go back.

"Hey! Whoa! Calm down! It's okay."

It was really important that whoever was there know that he couldn't go back, that he had to stay. He tried to speak.

"Cannnnnn...gooo...baaaaac...annnn...goooooo...baaaaaa..."

He kept trying to say it, trying to impress on whoever was there the importance of his message by repeating it over and over again.

"Look, just calm down. Be quiet. I don't know how thick these walls are."

Then, there was a pause.

"Wait a second. Can you hear me? Are you listening? Could you really be hearing me and understanding what I'm saying?"

He felt a hand holding his. There was a strange ache there, but it wasn't intolerable.

"I know that it might hurt, but squeeze my hand twice if you're actually listening to me, if you're hearing what I'm saying."

Squeeze his hand. It was worth a shot.

He thought of squeezing. Twice.

"I can't believe it! You responded! You did something! There's someone in there! You have no idea how great this is!"

Maybe. Maybe not. He certainly didn't feel very good, and he was still terrified that he'd be going back. That couldn't happen.

He started trying to speak again, saying that he couldn't go back.

The hand disappeared from his hand and reappeared on his forehead.

"Calm down. It's okay. Don't worry. Everything is just fine. You're safe. I'm safe. We're good."

The flow of words was strangely soothing, although he couldn't think why it was soothing or why it was strange that it was. Eventually, though, he calmed enough to stop talking and listen.

"Can you open your eyes?"

Eyes. Right. It was dark. He had simply assumed that was the way it was supposed to be. But he knew that his eyes did open. Or at least, that they _had_ opened in the past. Yes. They could open. He could try that.

He struggled, but it felt like there were heavy weights holding them down.

"I saw that for a second. Come on. Keep trying."

After what seemed like an eternity, he got his eyes to open and stay that way. Well, they weren't completely open, but it wasn't too bad. He could see the man who was with him. He looked scruffy, actually.

"Excellent! I'd tell you to give me five, but I don't think you could manage it in your condition. We'll just have to wait until you're better."

The meaning of that sentence flew right over his head and struck the wall behind him.

"Can you see me?"

He mumbled something that he thought might be an affirmative.

"Good. Do you know me?"

That was a much harder question because the answer was yes, but he didn't know who the man was. So it was yes, but no, and he didn't even know how to put words to it.

So he just stared for a long time. He could have sworn that, even through his muddled brain and his half-open eyes, the man staring at him looked disappointed. It was like he was failing some test or something.

That was wrong. He didn't fail tests. He always passed. Always. And not just passed. He aced tests. Keeping his eyes open was too hard. He couldn't think and look at the same time. He let his eyes close.

"It's okay. You can tell me later."

He could hear the disappointment. That was unacceptable. With his eyes closed, he had more energy to think. He lay there and thought hard. He didn't know how long it took. He just knew that he had to think and had to figure out who it was that he knew but couldn't remember. He thought and thought and thought.

Finally, without any fanfare, the identification was there. Now, could he actually get the word out or not? It was so hard to know whether or not the sounds coming out of his mouth made any sense.

He wanted this to be exactly right. He lay there thinking hard about how to say the name. He was pretty sure that much of what he'd tried to say hadn't been understood and he wanted to make sure that _this_ was clear.

He thought through his muddled brain, through the aching pain he felt over much of his body, through the mush in his mouth.

"Tony."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tony couldn't hide his worry when there was no real recognition in his companion's eyes. He was just staring without speaking, without acknowledging the question, even. It was enough to sap his already low energy and bring his spirits to an even lower level.

It was downright depressing. How in the world could he figure out what was going on if the only person who might know didn't know anything, either?

Still, he tried to keep himself occupied with all the other things that had to be done during the day. He kept the space very clean in the hopes of staving off infection or illness. It also took up _time_. There was always something he could clean if he couldn't do anything else. No hospital was cleaner than an apartment staffed by one guy trying to keep himself from going nuts. He made meals. He fed his companion and himself. ...and he thought, for the millionth time, about giving up and taking their chances with the police or with anyone else.

Then, after six hours of the depressing silence, something happened that lifted his spirits more than it should have.

"Tony."

He turned around from the sink where he'd been washing the dishes. Again.

"What?"

The eyes were still closed, but the word had been clear enough.

"Say it again."

Another long, silent moment.

"Tony."

Tony couldn't keep himself from smiling. He hurried back to the bed and knelt down.

"That's right! That's exactly right! You got it! It took you a while, and I'd have to dock some points for that, but I'll take what you can give me if it's what you've got right now. And do you know who _you_ are?"

The silence returned. The eyes didn't open, but this time, Tony wasn't fooled into thinking that meant nothing was happening. There was thought going on. It was slow and probably faltering, but it was real thought. Tony waited for about ten minutes with no reply, but he refused to let it bother him after this first success.

"You tell me when you're ready to, okay? Just say it. I'll hear it."

He couldn't just sit there and listen. Even with this improvement, he couldn't just sit around and do nothing. Besides, there really was something to do right now. He got up and went back to getting the bandages ready. He hated this part, but he knew it was the most important. Even when he'd been pretty much caught getting his companion out of the hospital, the doctor had simply sighed and told him what to do to take care of the injuries.

Another hour went by before the next word. It was the hour that Tony used to get himself mentally ready to give a bath to a grown man.

 _Boy, it's a good thing that I never went into medicine. I hate this._

Tony didn't dare say _that_ out loud because he was absolutely sure that, regardless of how little his companion seemed to be aware of his surroundings, he'd hear _that_ and feel bad.

"Tim."

Again, Tony wasn't ready for it, but he wasn't as shocked to hear it this time. He hurried back to the bed, the bandages in hand and ready.

"That's right, Tim. Excellent! Great! Fantastic! Good. I won't ask you any more questions today. You passed with flying colors. Well, except for the time frame involved. You're still going too slow and you'll have to work on doing better before I accept that you're ready."

Then, Tim showed him that he wasn't really recovered.

"Can...cnnn...no...baaa...can..."

That same gibberish again. Well, Tony would take that if it was accompanied by some degree of sense. He didn't care how small it was.

"Don't worry, Tim. It's okay. Now, this is not my favorite part of the day, and I know it's probably not yours, either. But it's got to be done. Just keep your eyes closed and I'll be as gentle as I can."

Carefully, Tony removed Tim's clothes. This still made him more than a little uncomfortable, but the necessity of it kept him from putting it off. It didn't keep him from trying to pretend the discomfort wasn't there, even though it was totally obvious. Or at least, if there had been a single other person around to see him, it would be obvious to that person. To help pass the awkward time, Tony talked. He tended to have the conversations with himself a lot of the time, but when he was doing this, he just pretended that Tim was listening and just didn't have anything to say in return.

"You know, I heard this interview with Billy Joel once where he said that he heard the tune to 'River of Dreams' in a dream before he ever could think of the words and he would be in the shower, singing the tune and he'd say things like, 'In the shower now and...got my soap and I...clean my body and I...' And so on and so on. I can't imagine coming up with a song from a dream. Well, I can't really imagine coming up with a real song awake, either. I can do songs that other people wrote, but not my own. Not my thing. Oh, sorry."

Tim was awake enough to react to every twinge of pain. Tony hated to see that and know that he was hurting Tim while he was trying to help him. Tim didn't move much, but he whimpered a few times as Tony removed the bandages and started to clean his friend as much as a sponge bath allowed. The bruises were finally starting to fade, but the sheer savagery was what had convinced Tony to be more cautious than he might have been otherwise.

"I know it's not fun. Gotta do it, though. Just relax as much as you can. Speaking of Billy Joel, my favorite song is 'Piano Man', but did you know that while he did write it about something that had happened to him, it really wasn't about him being a new musician trying to get by? It was actually something he wrote when he was having a dispute with the label or something and he refused to do anything until he was satisfied with the contract. That's why, in the last verse, he has the lyrics about people asking him what he's doing in the bar. He was famous already, and singing in a bar."

Tony had no idea how much Tim was understanding, but the talking helped _him_ as much as anything. The silence would drive him crazy. It was a slow process, but he was glad to see no sign of infection and plenty of signs of healing. Tim was gradually getting better, even if it was taking too long as far as Tony was concerned. It would be better if Tim was just _mentally_ okay and the physical stuff was necessary. Tony hated not being able to have a simple conversation. Talking to himself was all well and good, but the responses weren't all that interesting.

Twenty minutes later, Tim was clean with new bandages. Just as carefully, he got Tim dressed again, and the ordeal was over. For both of them.

"There. All done. I know it hurts, but it has to feel better than it did before, right?"

No reply. Was Tim even awake? Tony hesitated and then carefully took Tim's bruised hand and held it gently.

"Are you awake, Tim? Squeeze my hand if you are. Twice."

There was a long moment of nothing and then two very light squeezes.

"Good. Can you open your eyes again? I promise, I won't ask you any other questions today."

Gradually, very gradually, Tim's eyes fluttered open, just halfway. He looked at Tony and said nothing at first. Then, his lips moved. His face was much less swollen than it had been.

"Huuuuuursss."

Tony tried to figure out what Tim was saying. Just one word and a short one.

"Say that again?"

"Huuuurrrssss."

"Hurts?"

Two more squeezes.

"I know. I'm sorry that I can't take all that away. You'll get another dose of pain medication soon. When we have dinner. It's just that we have to be careful. Don't want you getting hooked on it."

"Can...cnnn...no...baaa...can..."

The doctor had insisted that Tim had said he couldn't go back. Now, he didn't know back _where_ , but given the situation, the fact that Tony didn't even know why Tim had been gone, he was inclined to be safe, if it was possible.

Still, he didn't think _that_ sounded much like not going back. Heck, part of it sounded like _bacon_ , and Tony was almost positive that Tim didn't want any bacon.

Tim stopped mumbling again and Tony got back to cleaning up everything. He picked up the old bandages, put them in the trash. He cleaned up the bandages he hadn't used and put them back in the kit. He checked the kit very thoroughly to make sure he had plenty of supplies. Actually, he took everything out and then put it back in and reorganized it. Then, he packed away the kit and stood up. He looked around the apartment. He could see the whole place from right here. Two beds. A small TV, a lumpy couch. A kitchen. The only thing he couldn't see in detail was the bathroom, but that was tiny. Shower, toilet, sink. It was clean. Tony could say that it was very clean. Tiny, cramped, dingy, annoying, ugly. But it was clean. Obsessively clean. Tony knew that, while he didn't like living in a pig sty, he was still cleaning way more than was necessary.

If only he knew where Gibbs was. Tony had never realized how it felt to be the one _not_ involved. It was not pleasant. He felt so worried about what might have been happening. But if Tim had been with Gibbs, why had he asked for Tony? If he had been with Gibbs, how had this happened and was Gibbs worse off? Was Gibbs dead? Tony had tried to call once, but it hadn't even gone to voicemail. That had clued him into the seriousness of the situation, even if Tim's status hadn't already.

"Man, this sucks," he said aloud.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim lay where he was, with his eyes closed. It was so hard to open them.

He was sure that time must be passing, but he couldn't determine how much. All in all, he was mostly content with the fog, but he was actually somewhat aware of it now, and he was fairly certain that the fog had been there before but he hadn't noticed.

He tried to open his eyes again. He wanted to do it without Tony making him. He needed to show that he was able.

His eyes opened, but things weren't completely clear. There was some fog involved in his vision as well as his brain.

He tried to talk, but this time, he tried to slow it down. Maybe repetition wasn't helping. Maybe he just needed to be slower.

Then, he realized that it was dark.

"Daaaaarrrrk," he said. There. That was a word. Right?

"What? Tim, was that you?"

The name. What was it?

"Tony," he said, trying to get it right.

He heard movement and then a hand on his arm.

"I'm right here. What did you say?"

Tim thought hard about the word he'd said.

"Daaarrk," he said.

There was a chuckle.

"Yeah, well, it's the middle of the night, Tim. What do you expect?"

He suddenly couldn't think of what was happening now. It was something else. Something terrible. Awful. Painful. It had been dark when it happened.

"Dn...leave...behnd...sssstoooop."

"Hey. Calm down, Tim. It's okay. You're fine. Or you will be. Eventually."

"Darrrrk," he said again.

"Okay. I'll turn on a light."

There was a flash of light in his eyes and he closed them in reaction, making it dark again.

"Rrrrrrrunnnnn...ing," he whispered.

"Open your eyes, Tim. If you're afraid of the dark, open your eyes. There's light."

Tim struggled and did. Tony was right. There was light.

He tried really hard to say that. He didn't know why it was so difficult to come up with the right words, but it was.

"Noooo...dar-k."

"Nope. Not dark."

Good. That seemed to have made sense.

"Tony."

"Yeah?"

"Cnnn...go...baaaaa...no."

"I'm sorry, Tim. I don't understand what you're saying."

Tim had been afraid of that. The problem was that, right now, he wasn't sure exactly what it was he was trying to say. Everything had fallen out of his head in the midst of his sudden fear. Making words was so hard, though. He tried and tried to think of what he was saying.

"It's all right, Tim. Calm down. Go back to sleep. It can wait until tomorrow."

"Nooooo...baaaaa. Nnnnnooo."

Moving was harder than speaking, but Tim tried to move his hand, tried to grab Tony so that he would get what Tim was saying.

Finally, he did it. Well, he did _something_. He managed to move his hand over to Tony's hand.

"I get that this is important, Tim, but it'll wait. We're not going anywhere or doing anything until you can tell me what's going on. So relax and go back to sleep. You've got to be tired, right?"

As soon as he said it, Tim was tired, but he didn't want to be in the dark again.

"Dar-k," he said, trying to emphasize the k.

"I'll leave the light on for you. Just like Tom Bodett."

Tim was exhausted with trying to talk and trying to move. His eyes closed and he felt the black starting to come in again.

He slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony stifled a sigh as Tim seemed to fall asleep again. On the one hand, it was great that Tim seemed to be more alert. On the other hand, he wasn't really making much sense at all. If there were clear thoughts in his head, they weren't coming out of his mouth.

Was it better or worse that Tim was alert enough to be scared of the dark?

"Think positive, DiNozzo," he said softly to himself. "He's getting better. He's improving. He even moved a little!"

But it was taking so long and he was worried about how frightened Tim was...about whatever it was that had frightened him. He needed Tim to act like Tim. And if he was genuinely afraid of something or someone, then, what was the best course of action? Action. That would be _so_ much better than this sitting around. Tony hated being forced to be sedentary. It just wasn't him, no matter how much he complained about working. He hated that he couldn't _do_ anything.

At least, he couldn't do anything besides clean. Clean the apartment, clean the dishes... clean Tim. He sighed but then shook his head.

"No, he's getting better, not worse. That means that, eventually, he's going to be able to talk about whatever it is that he's trying to say now. I just have to be patient."

That made him sigh again. Patient. Patience was only a virtue until waiting meant one had waited too long and then everything went to pot. Then, it became delaying or something else with negative meanings attached and it was the wrong thing to do...but up until the moment when everything went wrong, it was the virtue of patience.

With the light on, Tony could sit there and stare at what had become of his friend and teammate.

Tim had been beaten to within an inch of his life. Two of his teeth were broken. He'd had swelling in his brain and internal bleeding in his abdomen. There were bruises all over, including a couple of places where the pattern of a boot could be seen in the pattern of the bruise. There were smaller lacerations that the doctor hadn't been able to identify the cause of, and a few places where they'd had to debride the wounds because Tim had been hit with rotten wood. All in all, he was lucky to be alive. It was only due to a hunter who had heard the commotion and called out that Tim hadn't been killed. (It had helped that the hunter had two large redbone hounds.)

No wonder he'd said it hurt.

"And no wonder I hate looking at him," Tony said to himself.

After another twenty minutes, with Tim breathing more or less evenly again, Tony took a chance and turned out the light.

He got back into bed and, as he always did, hoped for a good night's sleep. He never got it, but he hoped for it. And he hoped, as he always did, that he wasn't making a mistake by keeping Tim hidden here.

 _If only I knew what was going on!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Things continued on the same track, more or less, for the next few days. Tim would wake up, babble gibberish, sometimes interspersed with an intelligible word here and there, and then go back to sleep. Tony cleaned and sometimes watched TV, but he rarely had the patience for that. It was too sedentary an activity with how little he was doing. Every night, Tony got Tim to sleep and then would wake up frequently during the night, worried about something happening or something _not_ happening. He woke up feeling distinctly unrested and went about the day.

Cleaning.

It was early in the morning, and they were getting close to a month here. Tony was sitting by the main window and was enjoying the view. That was the only good thing about this place. It sure had a beautiful view in the morning from the one large window, and watching the sunrise was about the only time he could stay still. He tried to focus on how beautiful it was as a way of escaping from the uncertainty.

"Tony...where...am I?"

The question took him by surprise. No, it was more than surprise. It was absolute shock. Tim had spoken an entire sentence and it had been understandable. Even more amazing. It had made sense!

Sunrise forgotten, he ran over to the bed where Tim was lying, staring up at the ceiling, looking confused.

"Tim! You're awake and talking! That's great, stupendous, wonderful!"

"Where...am I?" he asked again, not even acknowledging Tony's joy.

"In a sketchy apartment in upstate New York."

Tim's eyes gradually left the ceiling and focused on him.

"Why?" he asked. "What...are..." He stopped for a second and looked around. "...we doing in New York? ...and why am I...like this?"

Tony's heart sank.

"You don't remember?"

"Remember...what?"

"What's the last thing you remember, Tim?" Tony asked.

He was afraid of the answer he might get to this question.

"Gibbs," Tim said, finally.

"What about him?" Tony asked, eager to get some information.

"He sssaid that... I..." Tim stopped again. "MTAC?"

Tony's heart sank even further.

"The last thing you remember is in MTAC?"

"Is that...wrong?" Tim asked. "Why...are we in...New York?"

Tony sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, striving for calm.

"What's...wrong, Tony?" Tim asked, speaking slowly and softly. "What...happened?"

"I don't know!" Tony burst out, his anxiety and frustration finally getting the best of him. "That's what's wrong! I don't know what happened! I don't know what's going! I don't know why we're here! And I don't know why I can't ask anyone else! I DON'T KNOW!"

Tim looked at him, almost in fear, his mouth moving wordlessly. Tony tried to calm back down again. He got up and started pacing, breathing in and out, trying to be calm and rational. It wasn't Tim's fault that this was happening. At least it had _better_ not be Tim's fault that all this was happening. There was often some memory loss with head trauma and with violent attacks. It could be temporary or it could be permanent. This could easily be temporary given that Tim had remembered other things earlier, even if it was garbled and confusing.

Finally, after a few minutes, he took one more breath and turned back to Tim who was staring at him, almost in horror.

"I'm sorry, Tim. It's just... It hasn't been a picnic for me, either. We've been here for nearly a month and it's really... It really sucks that you don't why we're here, either."

"Month?" Tim repeated.

"Yeah. A month. I tried to call Gibbs once, but he didn't answer. You were apparently saying that we couldn't go back, and someone tried to kill you in the hospital. So we've been hiding out here for a month, and it's driving me nuts."

"I'm...sorry," Tim whispered.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you're awake and actually communicating with me. That's a huge step further than we've been, but you've got to remember what happened, Tim! You've got to! Either that, or you've got to tell me that it's okay to call someone."

Instantly, Tony realized that he'd made a mistake in mentioning that as a possibility. Tim started to panic and babble about not going back and his speech degraded into little more than incoherent mumbling. Tony tried to calm him down, but Tim didn't even seem to hear him. He was lost in whatever it was that scared him so much, and that continued until he fell asleep...or unconscious.

Annoyed at himself, Tony got to his feet and walked away from the bed. He walked to the couch and kicked it. Then, he gave himself a head slap.

"Real smart, DiNozzo," he said to himself. "That was real smart. Tim _finally_ wakes up and what do _you_ do? You freak him out. He's been coherent for five seconds and you start grilling him on what he knows and doesn't know. What were you _thinking_?"

He flopped onto the couch and lay there, legs dangling over the edge, staring angrily at the ceiling. He started punching the cushions on the couch. He was mad that he had let himself overreact. Well, it wasn't overreacting so much as it was pushing too much of his anxiety onto Tim when Tim had only barely started thinking.

Still, even with all that, he couldn't stay lying on the couch for long. He had to get up and _do_ something. Somehow, being stuck here was now even worse than it had been simply because Tim didn't know if it was safe to leave, either.

He got up and walked to the kitchen to get breakfast ready. Tim would still need to eat, coherent or not, thinking or not, remembering or not. The basics didn't change, and with his need to heal, regular meals would be extremely helpful. Even beyond that, Tony knew _he_ needed to eat as well. He tried to focus on that and nothing else. Well, _almost_ nothing else. As always, he kept an ear open for any signs of distress from Tim.

He couldn't think of anything creative for either of them, so he just made smoothies. Yogurt, fruit and juice. Sometimes, Tony actually tried to do something interesting, but this was not that meal. He drank his own smoothie while he waited for some signs of life from Tim. Hopefully, when he woke up, he wouldn't still be frantic.

It was only a few minutes later that Tim began to stir. He wasn't quite awake, but he was starting to shift around and make some noises. Quickly, Tony went over and knelt down. Again, he took Tim's hand in his own.

"Hey, Tim. I'm really sorry that I came at you like that. I shouldn't have. You just take your time. I'm sure we have plenty of it. Just relax and wake up and talk to me. Besides, it's time for breakfast, and I'm sure that you'll be hungry."

There was a squeeze and Tim's eyes slowly opened. He still looked confused, but there was something in his expression that gave Tony just a little bit of hope. He couldn't explain what it was, but it was different from how Tim had looked before.

"I'm...sorry," he said, slurring a little.

"No. It's okay. You're fine. _I'm_ sorry. I screwed up and I know it. Are you hungry?"

There was a long pause as Tim seemed to think about that. Then, he nodded.

"Okay. It's time to move you anyway."

"Move?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. Don't want you getting bed sores. The doc warned me about that. It'll hurt, but it's better for you."

Tony went back and grabbed the smoothie (which was a lot thinner than it had been) and then, he sat on the edge of Tim's cot and gently lifted him. Tim's head flopped a little and he whimpered at the pain of changing position. Tony hated hearing that sound, but he knew this was necessary.

"It's okay, Tim. Just breathe through it. You'll be getting breakfast in just a second."

Tim didn't answer, but he was very tense as Tony carefully balanced him and then brought the smoothie around. As uncomfortable as he was with playing nurse, this was much easier to deal with than giving Tim a bath.

"Here you go, Tim. Just take as long as you need to drink it. I'm in no rush."

Tim didn't take a sip at all for a couple of minutes as tears of pain leaked from his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Tony hated it, but he tried to ignore how _he_ felt, making sure that the pain _Tim_ felt was not making things worse. Eventually, Tim began to suck on the straw, taking in the nourishment he needed. He had definitely lost a lot of weight, but now that he was more awake, Tony hoped that Tim would start eating more.

It took a long time for Tim to finish the smoothie. Almost an hour. All that time, Tony held him as still as possible and made sure it was as easy for Tim to eat as he could. Then, he got Tim's pain pill and helped him take it.

Then, finally, he eased Tim back down onto the bed, with more whimpers of pain as he did so.

As Tony expected, as soon as he was lying down again, Tim fell asleep. He was trembling a little bit, but he was sleeping. Tony stayed beside him until the trembling stopped and Tim's breathing evened out.

Then, he took Tim's glass and his own glass, and the blender and everything else, and he washed them thoroughly. As he did, he thought again about what might come of Tim's new awareness.

Would he start to remember if Tony gave him the chance to recover a little bit more? Would this just be putting off the inevitable?

Well, even if it was, Tony felt that he couldn't, in good conscience, ignore Tim's obvious panic about letting people know where they were, especially if there was a chance that he'd recover his memory and be able to explain on his own. It was just a matter of figuring out how to help Tim access those memories. Some of it was likely lost because of the head trauma and if Tim's brain was starting to recover, maybe his memory would come back, too.

The one thing he'd learned was that Gibbs _had_ been involved in this somehow. While it wasn't fair to judge everything on the basis of Tim's confused statements, the fact that he'd mentioned Gibbs couldn't be ignored. Gibbs was a part of it. How Gibbs was involved was unknown, but that could explain why Tony hadn't been able to get in contact with him. Maybe they had agreed to hide out and that was all Tim could remember.

Or maybe it was that Gibbs was dead and Tim had seen it happen.

Or maybe Tim was just screwed up in the head and they'd been hiding here for no reason at all.

...but someone had tried to kill Tim. Twice. Once in the woods and once in the hospital. There was no mistaking that part. Someone wanted Tim dead. Multiple someones, based on what he'd been told. So whether Tim's fear was just because of that or if it was because there was a genuine danger in contacting anyone, Tony didn't feel like he could go against it. Not right now.

He let his mind wander back to Tim's sudden increase in coherence. Maybe the swelling was going down like the doctor had said. Once that happened, he had said that Tim would seem to suddenly get better. Maybe that was happening now. Tony really hoped so.

But for now, all there he had was...

...more cleaning. Maybe the bathroom could use a once over.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Tim opened his eyes and it was dark. For a moment, he panicked.

 _I'm blind!_

But then, he thought again, and he realized that he had seen before. So it was likely just dark. That was a relief, but at the same time, he was feeling a lot of pain whenever he tried to change position. But he had been still for so long already. There was a feeling that he'd been pretty helpless recently.

He tried to move, tried to sit up or something, but it really hurt all over, with a special amount of pain in his head. He hated being stuck where he was, though. He tried to get up, tried to see where he was.

"Tim? You all right?"

For a moment, Tim couldn't think of who was speaking or what the words meant. He just heard the sound.

Then, he felt a hand taking his.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

He took a few more seconds and then, it clicked.

"Tony."

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

"What happened to me?"

"Well, it looks like you ticked someone off, big time," Tony said, sounding pretty casual, considering what he was saying.

"But...why...what's going on?"

There was a click and a light flashed in his eyes, augmenting the ache in his head and he winced.

"Sorry, Tim."

The light dimmed a little and Tim felt like he could look around again. Tony was there and he didn't look very good. If asked, at the moment, Tim couldn't explain what it was about Tony that didn't look right, but something didn't.

"Why do I hurt?" he asked.

"Because you got beat up, McGee. That doesn't usually turn out so good for the one getting beat up."

"But...why?"

"Don't know yet, but we'll figure it out, and all you need to do is stay calm and get better. Sound good?"

"How long?"

"Don't know."

Tim thought back to the last memory he had, and Tony was in it, and he hadn't seemed so casual about all this.

"You're...different," Tim said. Speaking was hard for him to do. It hurt his jaw and his brain seemed to have a hard time coming up with the words.

"Different than what?" Tony asked, with a smile.

"Than...before."

Tony actually looked a little shamefaced at that statement and he shrugged.

"I lost my head for a moment, but I found it again. It's fine."

Tim thought about that some more.

"Broken?" he asked.

"No bones were broken. Lucky for you. There are a couple of broken teeth, but no broken bones."

"Then, why do I hurt?"

"Because they beat you up, Tim. Just because they didn't break anything doesn't mean nothing happened to you. Just relax. It's really late. You should go back to sleep."

But Tim didn't want to sleep for the moment. He wanted to understand what was making his brain so fuzzy, why his head hurt so bad, why the rest of him hurt so bad.

Then, he suddenly wasn't lying on the bed anymore. He was in the dark. In a forest. In trees. He was running, and he could hear people coming behind him, getting closer and closer and...

"Calm down, Tim! It's okay! You're okay."

Tim opened his eyes again, and he was breathing heavily.

"Forest," he whispered. "Running...trees... I can...hear them..."

"No. It's not happening, right now. You're safe. You're in this dumpy little apartment and you're fine. You're going to be fine."

Tim could hear Tony's voice, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. He was lost in a dark forest with all those people, and all that pain.

"Tim, snap out of it! You're all right. You're safe! You're not in danger!"

Before he knew it, Tim was being lifted off the ground (bed?). It hurt. A lot, but then, he was being held by someone.

"It's all right, Tim. Just hear what I'm saying. You're safe. You're okay. You're hurt, but you're okay. It's all right. It's all right."

After some time, he could actually hear _and_ understand what was being said. He opened his eyes again and realized he was looking up at Tony. As soon as he made eye contact, Tony smiled.

"You hear me now, Tim?"

"Yeah," Tim whispered.

"Good. Whatever you were remembering, it's not happening now. You're just fine. You hear me?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Are you feeling any better?"

Tim thought about that.

"No."

Tony laughed.

"Well, I guess that's not surprising."

Tony took a deep breath and then Tim felt himself being lowered back to the bed. It hurt, but it was okay.

"Do you want the light on?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Tim said, softly. He wasn't sure if the answer should be yes or no, but he knew that he didn't want to be in the dark again. Not right now.

"That's fine. Are you tired?"

Tim thought about that, too, but this time, he thought he knew what the expected answer was.

So he nodded.

"Yes."

"Then, why don't you go back to sleep? And I'll do the same."

"Okay."

Tim closed his eyes and lay there. He felt Tony's hand on his arm for a few minutes, but then, he thought he could hear movement. He opened his eyes again and Tony was pacing back and forth, rubbing his hands over his head.

Not wanting Tony to realize he was still awake, Tim closed his eyes again, but he could hear that soft tread. Back and forth. Back and forth.

It continued until Tim was tired for real and he finally fell asleep, still hearing the soft sound of Tony pacing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

After a while, Tony calmed down enough to think about going to sleep. He looked over at Tim and he was still and quiet. He hated this. He hated how little there was that he could do. He hated that Tim was still not acting like Tim. He hated that he was stuck here. He hated that he felt so helpless.

Most of all, though, right now, he hated seeing how much pain Tim was in. Certainly, it was a marked improvement over the period when Tim would nearly scream at the slightest touch on certain parts of his body.

"He's getting better. He's getting better," Tony whispered to himself.

It was taking a _long_ time, but it was happening. Healing was coming.

He just had to be patient.

There was that word again.

Patient.

Another deep breath and he let it out as slowly and quietly as he could. He didn't want Tim to wake up again.

Then, a quiet walk over to his bed and Tony lay down. He stared at the ceiling for a while, but eventually, his tiredness overcame his tension and he fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up and it was light again. Or rather, it was _still_ light, but it wasn't the artificial light of a lamp. He wondered what had awakened him.

Then, he heard the sound of water running. He opened his eyes and looked around. Tony wasn't there.

"Tony?" he called out softly.

No response.

Painfully, Tim pushed himself up. It really hurt, but he needed to see more than he could while lying on his back. It hurt and it was hard to do. Tim didn't know why it was so hard. After all, he was just sitting up, but beyond the pain, there was an extreme amount of effort required for him to get himself into a sitting position.

For the first time in who knew how long, Tim looked all around the space in which he currently existed. It wasn't all that inspiring to be honest. He wasn't impressed, but he also didn't have the slightest idea why he was in this space in the first place, but even more than all that, Tony wasn't in the space, and where had he gone?

"Tony?" he called out again.

No sound, no response.

He was shaking with the pain and the effort he was expending, but he was worried.

"Tony?"

To keep himself from freaking out, he looked at the lamp. It was on. It didn't need to be. There was plenty of light in the room without it.

Tim focused on the idea of turning out the light. It took an amazing amount of concentration to get himself to the point that he understood what he had to do to get that task done. Then, he had to convince his body that it was the right thing to do, even though his body was begging to be allowed to lay down again.

Shaking, he reached out to turn off the lamp.

And he reached too far, lost his meager balance and then fell off the bed and onto the floor with a crash.

That only made everything hurt more and he lay where he was, eyes closed tightly, body tense and quivering.

There was the distant sound of a door opening.

"Tim! What happened?"

The voice was Tony's, which was welcome, but the words couldn't get through the pain.

Before he knew it, he was being lifted off the floor...which hurt, but was better than how he'd been lying.

He noticed that he was getting wet. He didn't know why.

Tony's voice kept going, but Tim still couldn't understand what he was saying. He didn't know how long it took, but eventually, the pain began to fade and the sounds became words.

"–but you need to tell me if you can hear me. Tim?"

"Y-Yes," Tim whispered, breathing heavily.

He heard a big sigh of relief.

"Good. It doesn't feel like anything is broken. Are there any sharp pains? I know it probably hurts, but does it hurt worse?"

Tim thought about it.

"N-No."

"Good. Now, what happened?"

"Light."

"Yeah. It's daytime. There's light when the sun is up," Tony said, sounding a little frustrated.

Tim shook his head, trying to explain himself when he felt so strange.

"No. Lamp. Didn't need to be on. Wanted to...turn it off."

There was a long silence. And then another sigh.

"Okay. Tim, while I'm glad you're thinking that clearly, for now, let's not fall out of bed, okay?"

"Why did I?" Tim asked. "Shouldn't have."

Another long pause.

"Tim, you've been in bed for a _long_ time. You're going to need to take a lot of time to get better. If you're ready, we can start working on that."

Tim couldn't even consider that right now, but he was trying to think about what Tony was saying.

"Tim, do you want to turn off the lamp?"

"Yes," Tim said, not sure why it mattered to him.

"Then, let me help you."

Tony lifted him toward the lamp. It hurt, but for some reason, Tim was glad he could reach out and turn off the light.

Then, Tony let him back down. Tim looked at him and noticed, for the first time, that Tony was half naked and his hair was wet.

"Now, I'm going to finish showering, Tim," Tony said. "Don't try to get up unless I'm around, okay? Understand?"

Tim nodded once, and something else wormed its way into his conscious mind.

Shame.

"I'm sorry," he said.

An almost-sincere smile crossed Tony's face.

"Don't worry about it. You're getting better and that's a _great_ thing. Just don't start trying to leap tall buildings in a single bound. You need to give yourself time to get better. So no getting out of bed until I'm out of the bathroom. Okay?"

"Okay."

Tony got up and walked back out of Tim's view. He lay there, thinking about what had just happened, and thinking about how strange everything felt to him. He hurt. No question about that, but he felt so strange. Everything was just a little off, and that wasn't good.

The water went on again.

A shower.

Tim realized what the problem was.

 _I'm stupid._

He wasn't sure why he was stupid, but he sure seemed to be right now. Maybe it would go away. He hoped so.

For the moment, amazingly, he wasn't tired. The pain was starting to fade, but he still didn't feel right. It just wasn't really all that great right now and he really wanted things to get better.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony sat down on the edge of bathtub for a few seconds and tried to calm down. That crash had scared him to death. He was sure that this shower had led to Tim's death somehow. To find that Tim had actually tried to move on his own and had simply fallen off the bed had not really been comforting.

Then, there had been something almost childlike in Tim's desire to turn off the lamp. He had almost seemed proud of himself for doing it.

 _Please, don't let this be what Tim is from now on. He has to get back to normal!_

The muscle weakness and possible atrophy weren't surprising. Unfortunate, but not surprising. It was just a matter of getting him moving again. If he was ready for that, it would at least give Tony something to do besides cleaning.

He got back in the shower, relieved that the towel he'd wrapped around his waist hadn't fallen off during the crisis. He didn't spend too much time in the shower, but he did take enough time to calm down and stop feeling like the world was about to end.

"Tim tried to move. That's a good thing. He just didn't realize how weak he was. That's all it is. He'll get better. He'll get better," Tony said softly to himself as he dried off and got dressed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next few days were actually better as far as Tony was concerned. With Tim more alert and wanting to move around, he could start helping him with exercises that would get his muscles back in condition and he thought that it might even help Tim heal more quickly.

So every day, Tony helped Tim with moving his legs and his arms. They weren't extremely difficult exercises, but they were enough that Tim would fall asleep after every set. But every time he woke up, he remembered the time he'd been awake before, and that made Tony even more relieved. His memory was working and if he was still a little slow, he was starting to rev up to full. How long it would take, Tony didn't know, but he was just glad that it was happening at all. Tim was still very restless at night. With more awareness came more nightmares, and Tony didn't sleep very well anyway. Every time Tim woke up, so did Tony and while Tim would fall asleep again, Tony usually took an hour or more. That meant that Tony was tired all the time, in addition to the stress.

But he kept telling himself that this was better.

With Tim acting more alert, Tony actually felt like he could go and get some more supplies. He explained his pending absence to Tim and then left the apartment for the first time in a long time. He didn't linger anywhere, however. That was too risky. He simply bought his groceries and a few other things (like some clothes for Tim when he was ready for that) and then went back. He had to admit that part of him didn't want to return to the confusion that existed in there. There was a part of him that just wanted to leave and go back home and pretend that none of this had ever happened, but he couldn't do that, and he knew it. He had to see it through.

It took two trips to get all the bags into the apartment, but he was okay with that. It was a relief to have a full supply again. They'd been getting low on quite a few things.

Tim was awake, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, but he didn't look very happy. Whatever he was thinking about wasn't positive, and Tony didn't like that. Instead of putting away the groceries, he walked over to the bed.

"Hey, Tim. I'm back, and it's about lunchtime. You hungry?"

Tim looked at him.

"I'm stupid," he said.

"What? No, you're not."

"I am."

Tony took a deep breath and quashed his own worry that Tim _was_ indeed stupid. He sat down.

"No. You got hurt, Tim. That's all it is. You're getting better now, and it's going to keep on that way. Give it a few more days and you'll be thinking in circles around me again."

 _I really hope I'm not lying._

"I don't even know where I am," Tim said slowly.

"You're in New York."

"But I don't know _why_!"

"It's all right," Tony said.

"No. It's not. You don't think it's all right, either. Don't lie to me!" Tim said. "You get up in the middle of the night. You pace back and forth. You don't sleep. You're awake every time I'm awake. You don't think it's all right!"

That was the most Tim had spoken at one time in the last six weeks. It was slow and faltering but it was clear and coherent, and Tony was thrilled, but he was also seeing that, with Tim's increased awareness, there was also an increase in needing to understand and Tim didn't like being in the dark any more than Tony did. In fact, in his own way, Tim might hate it more because he would see it as an indication of failure. And Tim hated to fail. He hated anything that would indicate some kind of weakness or lack in him.

Stifling a sigh, Tony tried to decide how to deal with this. All he wanted was for one day to be simple and easy. Was that too much to ask? All he wanted was a little bit of time when he wasn't stressed out about taking care of Tim or about what he should or should not be doing. The relief from getting groceries was gone, replaced by worry about Tim's state of mind.

He reached out and helped Tim sit up so that he could talk to him, face to face. Tim needed that kind of interaction instead of Tony hovering over him all the time.

"No, it might not be all right, Tim," he said, finally. "But I don't know that, and right now, neither do you. Until you're better, we _can't_ know that. But do you know what will make things better?"

"What?"

"If you _and_ I try to stop thinking about what we don't know and focus on what we do."

"And what's that?" Tim asked. "Seems like we don't know anything."

"We know that you got hurt really badly, that you were almost killed, and we know that you need time to get better. We've got you working on your exercises, and maybe you could start watching some TV or something. Basic cable is included in the rent on this place. I know you're not a big TV guy, but I don't want us on the Internet where we could get tracked down by someone. You didn't have a phone with you before, and I've disabled mine. So what do you say? You think you can handle just focusing on that for now?"

Tim looked around the room, and Tony was so happy that the swelling had gone down enough that his eyes could open all the way. ...or almost all the way. His right eye still had a little bit of a droop to it, mostly because of the stitches above it. They were starting to dissolve, but because they were partially external, they weren't dissolving at the same rate as the others had been. After staring at the apartment for a while, Tim returned his focus to Tony.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Hey, I'll take that. Now, are you ready for lunch?"

Tim nodded. Tony got Tim his pain pill and then, it was time for lunch.

"Help me to the table?" Tim asked.

"You sure you're ready to sit up for that long?"

"No," Tim said, but he smiled a little.

"Okay. Let's do it."

Tony leaned down and helped Tim get to his feet. ...not that Tim was actually walking. He wasn't. He seemed very dizzy and Tony was carrying a lot of Tim's weight. Plus, it seemed to hurt him, but he was trying to walk and he was upright for the first time. It was maybe ten feet to the tiny table that barely had space for two people, but Tim was sweating, breathing heavily and holding tightly to Tony by the time they got there. Tony carefully lowered him to the chair and Tim looked ready to fall over.

"Are you going to be okay there?" Tony asked.

Tim just nodded without speaking. He didn't slump, but he leaned forward on his hands and closed his eyes. Tony could see that he was shaking, but he decided to let Tim get his energy back and just keep an eye on him while he put away the groceries and decided what Tim might be able to tolerate for lunch. Nothing too solid yet, but maybe not a smoothie this time.

As he put the groceries away, he spied some instant oatmeal. Maybe that...and a banana or something? Sure. Why not. It wasn't exactly _lunch_ , but it was good for Tim to have all that kind of stuff. But he needed more protein in his diet, too. Milk. Sure. That would work.

Tony didn't ask Tim if that's what he wanted. He just kept an eye on Tim, waiting for the color to come back to his face and for the trembling to stop. It took a few minutes to get everything put away, but then, he started the oatmeal going in the microwave and got out a banana and some milk.

He brought the rather bland meal over and set it on the table. Tim didn't look quite so pale, but he was still shaking.

"Tim, are you sure you want to stay here? You don't have to be sitting up yet."

Tim's eyes were still closed, but he pushed himself upright and let out a long, slow breath. Then, he opened his eyes and nodded.

"I can do it," he whispered.

"Okay. You need me to help you?"

"Not yet."

With a shaking hand, Tim picked up the spoon and began to feed himself for the first time in more than a month. It was slow and clearly hard for him. Tony wanted to help, but he forced himself to wait until Tim asked for it. It was important that Tim get back to being independent and if this was what it took, then, Tony was all for it. He was glad that he had given Tim a straw in the glass of milk, though. No sense in forcing Tim to pick up a glass in addition to everything else.

Finally, Tim finished eating, and Tony was glad to see that, in pain or not, Tim had eaten everything.

"You need any more than that?" Tony asked.

Tim shook his head.

"Back to bed?"

Tim nodded.

"All right. Here we go."

Tony helped Tim stand up again. This time, he was pretty much carrying Tim back to the bed. He had no energy left. As soon as he was down on the bed, he went limp, breathing loudly, and he couldn't hold back a few tears.

"Good job, Tim. You made it."

Tim nodded but didn't speak.

"You can just take a nap and recover."

Tim didn't reply, and after a few minutes, his breathing evened out and Tony thought that he must be asleep. He got up and walked back to the kitchen to get his own lunch. He made himself a sandwich. He couldn't eat the same mush Tim did every time. He cleared up Tim's lunch and sat down at the table. As he ate, he considered what would come next. Tim's determination to get up was encouraging. He would have to make sure Tim didn't do _too_ much, but he was starting to get better. He just wanted Tim's mind to keep up with his body's recovery...or even outstrip it. He'd love to be able to have a real conversation with someone. He never thought that the thing he'd miss most was being able to talk to another person. It had been far too long since that was an option.

All in all, things could be better, but things could be much worse. He knew that because they _had_ been.

Tony finished eating and then did his usual thorough cleaning of the kitchen. He was tired, though. After all this, he just wanted to take some time to get a nap. Tim was sleeping. The pain pill would let him sleep without much pain, and since he was so tired by what he'd done, he would likely sleep for a while.

So Tony walked over to the couch and turned on the TV with the volume very low. Then, he tried to relax enough to sleep.

Amazingly, it was really easy.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up, unsure of what had disturbed his sleep. He opened his eyes and was relieved to note that the pain was extremely muted at the moment.

Then, the sound came again.

Trying to be quiet about it, Tim levered himself upright. Then, he smiled.

The TV was on, and Tony was lying on the couch, snoring. It was the first time Tim had seen him asleep, and he was glad. Now that he was really thinking again, he hated knowing that he was so dependent on Tony just to survive. He also really hated that he couldn't remember why he was in this situation in the first place.

It really bothered him that Tony didn't know, either, because that meant that Tony wasn't part of whatever had led to his injury. So why did Tony even know? Something in his mind told him that Tony shouldn't know what he'd been doing, but since Tim himself couldn't remember, that wasn't an issue at the moment. But _why_ had he been beaten? His nightmares always led to a forest. He had been running from people in a forest. But why? Why was he in New York? And if Tony wasn't a part of it, why had he apparently asked for him?

All that stuff was in his head, why couldn't he remember? Had the beating been _that_ bad? Was that why he felt so stupid and slow with everything, too? Tim didn't know, but he started to look at himself, something he hadn't yet done. There were healing bruises and lacerations all over his arms. He felt his face and there were sutures. Then, he realized that there were two gaps in his teeth. He looked at his legs. The bruising continued. It was like someone had tried to injure every inch of him, leaving nothing whole. Maybe it _had_ been that bad.

And now, he was in an apartment in New York, with Tony, neither of them daring to contact anyone. Tony had said that he wasn't because Tim had said not to. And when he thought about it, Tim felt that panic that insisted calling someone would get him killed.

What about Gibbs?

Tim tried to think about Gibbs and how he might fit into all this.

Contacting Gibbs wasn't possible. Was Gibbs dirty? Instantly, Tim rejected that idea. No, that couldn't be it. But for some reason, he was sure that any attempt to contact Gibbs would fail and that he shouldn't even try.

 _But what if I'm wrong?_

That was the problem. He had absolutely no idea what was right in this situation because his mind was a disturbing blank when it came to explaining what had happened to him.

Tony suddenly let out a loud snore and tossed and turned on the couch. Tim watched him, thinking again of why Tony might have been the one he'd asked for. Was it because he knew that there was no chance Gibbs could have done something? Or was it a mistake? Had he been trying to say _no_ Tony?

But what was coming clear to him, as he continued to ruminate on what had happened, was that it had something to do with Gibbs, that it had nothing to do with Tony, and that it was something outside of NCIS.

That last thought made Tim pause. Outside of NCIS? Yes, even though the thought had come from nowhere, it had the feel of being true. So if that was the case, why in the world had Tim been the one involved and not Tony? Tim wasn't exactly the go-to for most things outside of NCIS. Did that mean it was something computer-related? But how did all that lead to Tim being beaten up in a forest in New York?

Tim sighed and let his head drop back. This was the problem. Until he could remember everything, it was all one gigantic question mark and that was not a good thing when his life could be at stake.

And the pain was a lot duller right now, but he hated hurting so much. Every part of him had an ache. Tim looked at his hands, and even they had evidence of a severe beating. His knuckles were split, as if he'd been trying to beat back the people after him.

People. Not person. He kept thinking of multiple people being responsible. He wasn't sure if he _should_ trust all these momentary thoughts. What guarantee was there that his addled brain was putting things together in a logical and correct way? He already knew that he was still messed up enough that he couldn't always get what he was thinking about out of his mouth. Who was to say that he wasn't actually addled enough that even his thoughts were messed up?

He wanted to scream with frustration, but he didn't for two reasons. One, he was afraid it would hurt. Two, he didn't want to wake Tony up. Tony didn't seem happy about being here, either, and that only made Tim feel worse about the whole situation. His asking for Tony had made Tony's life miserable, and if someone was still after him, Tim could have also put Tony in mortal danger...because Tim knew that Tony wouldn't stand aside and let someone come after him. Even if Tim told him to, Tony wouldn't do that.

Finally, Tim tried to get himself back down on the bed. All that thinking had tired him out. He lay down and tried to go to sleep again.

Sleep and heal. Sleep and heal.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Tony woke up after having slept a lot longer than he had initially planned, but man, that had felt good. He didn't think he'd slept so soundly in more than a month. He got up and stretched. Then, he looked at his watch. It'd be dinnertime soon. He wondered if it would be okay to give Tim something more substantial than oatmeal. He just didn't want to mess things up because he jumped the gun.

"Tony?"

Tony turned away from the kitchen and looked at Tim.

"Hey, sorry I slept so long, Tim. The day's almost over."

Tim's brow was furrowed and he started trying to sit up. Since it was obviously hurting him, Tony walked over and helped him.

"Thanks," Tim said.

"No problem. You ready for dinner?"

"Tony, what happened?" Tim asked.

Tony tried to quash the instant frustration that question evoked.

"I told you, Tim. I don't know."

Tim shook his head, but stopped doing that very quickly. He closed his eyes and winced.

"No. For you. What happened to...get you here?"

"Oh."

"Please. Tell me." Tim opened his eyes again and looked at Tony earnestly. "Maybe...it will help."

"I don't know anything, Tim," Tony said. "I wasn't in on anything that might have contributed to this."

"But you're...here," Tim said. "Tell me. Then...dinner."

Tony smiled. "Okay. Fine."

He settled down on the end of Tim's bed.

"This is going back to over a month ago, okay?"

Tim looked a little distressed at the time, but he just nodded...which he quickly stopped himself from doing again.

"All I knew was that you and Gibbs were going to some conference. Vance called you both up to MTAC, but not me. When you came back, you said that Vance wanted you and Gibbs to go to some technology conference. He wanted you there because you could translate the stuff into something Gibbs would understand."

"That's a lie," Tim said, but he smiled a little. "I almost never could do that."

Tony laughed, even as he tried not to be disappointed that Tim's statement was just a joke, not a comment on Vance's instruction.

"Well, it was going to be a few days. Neither of you looked very happy about going, but you didn't say anything about it being something else. You both went and I was left behind. Vance had me doing some work on a couple of cold case files while Bishop was out of town. It was simple stuff and I was home at a normal time every night. I tried to call you once, but it went straight to voice mail. I figured you were in meetings."

Tim was listening, but there was no expression on his face. Tony had no idea if this was actually helping or not. He just kept going.

"It wasn't late, but I was home, and I got a call. It was a guy from New York saying that you had asked him to call me and get me to come up there, but that it was important that I not tell anyone."

"I said all that?" Tim asked.

"I guess so. You sure weren't talking when I got to the hospital."

Tim's brow furrowed again, but he gestured for Tony to continue.

"Well, I did call Vance. I told him that something had happened and I'd be gone." Tony paused and his own brow furrowed.

"What?"

"I didn't think about it until just now, but Vance didn't ask any questions. He didn't say anything about when I should be back or that I should tell him about it later. He just told me to go. So maybe he knew more than I was thinking he did."

"Maybe," Tim repeated.

"Anyway, I drove up. It took a long time, and it was about four in the morning when I got there. The only reason I wasn't falling asleep was because I was worried about what was going on. When I got to the hospital, the doctor said that the only thing you'd said to him was that you couldn't go back. So somewhere between the guy that called me and the hospital, you stopped saying much. And I gotta say, Tim...I was amazed you were even alive with how you looked. Your eyes were swollen shut. They'd had to do stitches on your head and surgery to stop some internal bleeding. They said there was some minor swelling in your brain but that it might go down on its own and it would just take time. Looks like they were right because you're so much more coherent now than you were..."

Tim shrugged uncomfortably. Tony wasn't sure that telling Tim how bad off he'd been was a good idea, but he kept at it.

"But the doctor asked _me_ why you couldn't go back, and I had no idea, but I figured that I'd wait until you woke up to ask you what was going on. I was ready to wait for a few days if I needed to. I tried calling Gibbs once, but when his phone went directly to voice mail, I figured it wasn't a good idea to keep trying. But then..."

"What?" Tim asked.

Tony took a deep breath and let it out.

"The reason we're in this dumpy apartment and not the hospital is because of what happened after all that. It had been a couple of days. You were still out and I was spending most of my time with you in the hospital, but I'd got a hotel room nearby. I still don't know why I went back to the hospital when I did. It seemed strange, but I just felt like I should drop by one more time before I went to bed, to see if you were finally awake." Another deep breath. "There was a man in your room. He had a knife and he was getting ready to kill you. I fought him off, but he got away from me. That's when I realized that this was a lot more serious than I'd been thinking it was. I found an apartment and then I kind of snuck you out of the hospital."

"Kind of?"

"Your doctor caught me when I was wheeling you out, but he understood the problem and he just gave me some instructions on taking care of you and told me to be careful. He said that he'd take care of the records there. So I brought you here in the middle of the night so that no one would see me carrying an unconscious guy into the place. And we've been here ever since. I don't know if Vance is in on whatever was going on and isn't worrying. I don't know about Gibbs, where he is or what he's doing. I don't know if I'm making a big mistake by not calling someone, but I'm trusting what you said, and if you didn't think that we should call anyone or that we should go back to DC, I'm willing to wait...but it's definitely not the most interesting period of my life."

There was a silence.

"So...did that help?"

Tim sighed. "I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know, Tony. I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I dragged you into something. I don't even know what it was. Why don't I remember?" Tim asked, getting a little agitated. "I remember you. I remember me. I remember a lot of things, but not what got me into this situation! I don't _remember_! _Why?_ " He closed his eyes and breathed shakily.

Tony leaned over and grabbed Tim gently by the shoulders.

"Hey, it's okay, Tim. It really is. You don't have to apologize for that. I'm flattered that you thought I was a good choice. Yes, it's frustrating and I wish this wasn't happening, but it's okay. As for why you can't remember, I don't know. I'm not Ducky, but... whatever happened was probably really bad, and maybe your mind is trying to forget the trauma or something like that. Maybe it's just that you got hit on the head really hard and it'll come back to you later. But right now... what do you want for dinner?"

Tim's eyes opened.

"What?" he asked.

"Dinner. What do you want?"

"Oh. I don't care."

That was probably true, Tony knew. With everything that was going on, all the pain that Tim still seemed to be feeling, he probably really didn't care about what he had for dinner.

"How does canned soup sound, then?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay. With that rousing endorsement, I'll go get it ready. Will you want to be eating at the table?"

Tim nodded.

"Tim, it's going to be okay. I know you might not be able to tell, but you're getting better and better every day."

It was true, even if Tony himself didn't feel like it was enough just yet, but Tim didn't need to know that part. He just needed to know that he wasn't stuck like he was.

Tim nodded, and Tony got up to get dinner. He'd bought some chicken noodle soup and while it wouldn't be exciting, it would be something better than oatmeal, and it would get Tim on the road to eating real food again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat where he was and watched as Tony went about getting dinner. He didn't want to get up again. That had hurt a _lot_ the last time, but he also didn't want to have to stay in this bed without moving simply because he was too wimpy to deal with the pain.

Besides, eating soup on a bed sounded like a recipe for disaster when he felt so weak.

Had all that Tony said helped anything? Maybe a little. Vance being involved wasn't a surprise to him.

" _Why me, Director? I mean, I get Gibbs being a part of this, but why not Tony?"_

" _Agent DiNozzo isn't going to be able to get into the computers and follow the trail if that opportunity presents itself, Agent McGee. You are fully qualified to do this."_

The memory flashed through his mind so quickly that he almost didn't realize that he'd remembered it.

He thought about it again, straining to remember some kind of detail, not just his own words and Vance's response.

" _What's this really about, Leon?"_

" _Maybe Agent Fornell should be the one to explain it. This is your idea, after all. Isn't it, Agent Fornell?"_

Gradually, the image in his mind spread out to include Vance, Gibbs, and, surprisingly, Tobias Fornell. They were all in Vance's office. It was extra early in the morning, long before anyone else was there, including Tony and Ellie.

"Tim?"

It was a secret meeting, Tim was sure of it.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

And it was long before the time Tony had told him about, where he and Gibbs had been supposedly going to a conference.

"Tim, please, don't fall back into oblivion. I'm not sure I could take it."

"FBI," Tim said, focusing on Tony who was now hovering in front of him. "It wasn't about NCIS. It was the FBI."

Tony's eyes widened in surprise.

"What? Why?"

"I don't..."

" _Okay, Tobias. What is it?"_

 _Fornell actually looked uncomfortable._

" _What I'm requesting isn't exactly sanctioned."_

 _Even Vance looked surprised by that._

" _Why not?"_

" _Because I don't know how far this goes."_

"Fornell...he asked for our help."

"With what?"

The memory was coming in dribs and drabs and it was hard to get at it. Tim was straining his brain, trying to remember this conversation. He closed his eyes, trying to get rid of the constant input of Tony and get his mind back to that time.

" _I've found evidence of a widespread infiltration of the FBI. There have been too many times that we've almost got a hold of some criminal and he got away at the last minute. I've traced a lot of the activity to the Buffalo Field Office, but that involves a lot of cases that bleed over into other areas, and I think there may be people here in DC as well."_

" _So what do you want us to do about it?" Gibbs asked._

" _I'm here asking for the aid of another federal agency because I don't trust that an FBI internal investigation will turn up anything," Fornell said, seriously._

" _Because they'll be watching for something like that," Tim said._

" _Exactly."_

" _But why me? This really sounds like it's more up Tony's alley."_

 _Fornell shook his head. "No. A lot of this has been done by deleting digital evidence and accessing confidential files. These are people who are in the computers. I need someone like you, Agent McGee. If this were just about organized crime or undercover work, you're right, DiNozzo would be better, but he can't do what you can do in this case."_

" _And how do you want us to proceed, Tobias?"_

" _I'm leaving that open to you, but as quietly as possible. Don't talk about it to anyone, except me."_

" _Not even Sacks?" Gibbs asked._

" _Not even Sacks. I don't think he's part of it, but I'm playing the paranoid card. Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean I'm wrong."_

"Fornell wanted us to to investigate," Tim said.

"Investigate what?" Tony asked, sounding a little impatient.

"We were... It started months ago."

"Months? And you never said a word to me? How did you keep that from me?"

Tim kept his eyes closed and tried to think. Thinking through his omnipresent headache was really hard.

" _Boss, I know Fornell didn't want us to tell anyone, but I'd feel better about this if we had Tony as backup."_

" _Me, too, but we don't make that call."_

" _We're the ones who could be in danger."_

" _Doesn't matter. Not our call."_

Tim opened his eyes.

"Dinner?" he asked.

He could see Tony's disappointment, but it was so hard to think and the pain in his head was worsening the more he tried.

"Yeah, sure. It's ready. Are _you_ ready to get up again?"

Tim nodded, even though he wasn't.

Tony put an arm around Tim's waist and lifted him. It hurt, and his head spun unpleasantly. Then, to his relief, he was sitting. It still hurt. He was still dizzy, but at least he wasn't moving. He focused on getting through the pain and being stable enough to eat something.

After a few minutes, Tim felt like he might be able to sit up. He pushed on the table and saw Tony watching him with concern. He thought about smiling but decided that would be too hard.

"I'm ready," he whispered.

"Are you sure?"

Tim nodded only once and waited. A bowl of soup slid in front of him and he began the painstaking process of feeding himself. It was harder than it should be. It hurt to be using muscles that apparently had been extremely abused. The one thing that helped was that the soup tasted good. It actually reminded Tim that he was genuinely hungry. It kept him pushing to finish the whole bowl, even as his hand started shaking with exhaustion. It was so hard to eat, but he was determined. He would not be defeated by a bowl of soup.

Finally, all that was left was some broth. Tim was relieved. He had eaten his fill _and_ he had reached the limits of his energy. It felt like his whole body was throbbing. He slumped down in the chair and was glad when he felt Tony supporting him.

"I've got you, Tim. Ready for bed?"

Another exhausted nod was all Tim could manage. More pain as Tony lifted him up and helped him back to the bed. Tim was relieved to be lying down. He lay there, breathing, willing the pain to ebb. Tony didn't say anything, or else the roaring in Tim's ears drowned out anything Tony might have said.

After unknown minutes, Tim opened his eyes and looked over. Tony was there.

"Any better?" he asked.

"Not worse," Tim said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, that's something anyway. We've got to talk about tomorrow."

Tim's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because..." Tony looked more than a little uncomfortable and Tim wondered what in the world was going on. "Because...I don't know how much of the last few weeks you actually remember..."

"Almost nothing," Tim said.

"Good. Actually, I'm glad. But one of the things that the doctor said was that it was really important to keep you clean."

"Clean?" Tim repeated, vaguely.

Tony let out a quick breath. "I've been giving you sponge baths for the last few weeks, Tim. I would take off your clothes, take off the bandages, give you a bath and put on more bandages and put on new clothes. Believe me. It's not something I was enjoying doing. In fact, I really _didn't_ enjoy it, but it's necessary. You've got enough problems without adding infection to the mix. Tomorrow is...bath day, and...you're a lot more awake, now. It'll be a _lot_ more awkward."

"Oh."

Tim had no idea what to say to that. The idea of Tony giving him a bath was bizarre. At best.

"What I was thinking, though, was that, if you feel up to it, I could put a chair in the bathtub and you could shower sitting down. I'd help you with what you needed, but then, you'd be doing most of it yourself and it wouldn't be ...so weird."

Tim still didn't know what to say about it.

"...but no matter what, you need to get clean tomorrow. The more you move around and stuff, the more important it is. There aren't as many bandages as there were, which is good, but we still don't want infection. And as much as I hate doing it, I'd rather give you another bath than risk anything worse happening."

"Oh."

"So what do you think?"

"I...don't know."

Tony laughed a little. "Okay. I'll ask you again tomorrow."

"Okay."

Tim closed his eyes again. He was exhausted from the effort of eating. Now that the pain had ebbed, he was tired and ready to sleep. He took comfort in knowing that Tony was there and fell asleep quickly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"No! No! Stop!"

The words were surprisingly clear, but the terror in them had Tony bolting out of bed, barely even registering that Tim sounded more normal than he had in weeks.

"Help! NO!"

Tony flipped on the lamp by Tim's bed and sat down.

"It's okay, Tim. It's all right. Wake up. Calm down. It's okay."

He kept talking as he tried to break through Tim's terror. Tim had actually moved, curling into a fetal position, apparently trying to protect himself. The fear had to be intense to not have the pain wake him up. He was breathing erratically and when Tony began rubbing Tim's back, trying to calm him down, he could feel Tim's trembling and tension.

"It's all right. Don't worry. You're not...in the forest or whatever it is that you're remembering. It's just a dream. It's okay."

After a few more minutes, Tim's body went limp and he lay there, tears running down his cheeks as he started to cry.

"It's all right, Tim. Really, it's okay. You're not in any danger right now. I hope. We're safe here. It's okay."

Finally, _finally_ , Tim's eyes opened and he looked at Tony, with both fear and a little embarrassment. Tony was glad to see the embarrassment because it showed that Tim was thinking more like himself.

"S-Sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay," Tony said, for what felt like the millionth time.

"I'm sorry," Tim said again.

"It's okay," Tony said, again. "What was it?"

"I was running...through the...forest, and...and it was..." Tim closed his eyes. Tony didn't know whether that was because of his mind or because of his terror.

"Alone?" Tony asked.

"No. They were there. Coming after us."

"Us? Gibbs, too?"

"I don't know."

Tony tried not to show his disappointment, but Tim seemed to be remembering something more.

"Why are you in the forest?"

"They...found us. Supposed to...something. I don't know... I ..."

"Okay."

Tony took a breath and decided, three a.m. or not, tired or not, this was the time to get some information. He reached out and urged Tim up into a sitting position. This would hopefully help Tim wake up all the way, too.

"Okay," he said, yet again. "Tim, I need you to tell me whatever it is you know. I don't care if it's not everything. I don't care if it's not even close to everything. I just need to be on the same page as you. You're starting to remember stuff, and you need to tell me."

"What if...it's not enough?" Tim asked.

"It doesn't matter. If you know more than I do, then you know more. Just start at the beginning if you can and go from there. If there are things you can't remember, skip them and keep going."

Tim closed his eyes again, and Tony was afraid that this wasn't going to work, that Tim would fade away again and he'd still be stuck knowing far too little. Then, Tim took a couple of breaths and opened his eyes.

"It started...a few months ago. An early meeting."

"Without me."

Tim nodded once.

"Fornell needed help."

Every word spoken slowly and deliberately, both because Tim was trying to think and because it was still hard for him to articulate. Since everything had been improving, Tony hoped that it would continue on that track, but for now, he had to strive to maintain patience as Tim spoke at a rate that was just not normal.

"With what?"

"Buffalo...the field office. People...employees..."

"Doing what?"

"Infiltration."

"Why not go to the FBI for that? Why NCIS?"

"Paranoid. Worried that the...that they were in DC, too."

"Why not me?"

"Computers."

Tony smiled. That did make sense, even if it did gall him a little bit that he was kept out.

"Wanted to add you in, but Fornell said no."

"Who did?"

"Me."

"Well, thanks, Tim."

"Had to keep it...secret. Only early or at Gibbs' place."

"Were you making progress?"

Tim shrugged.

"Was the conference real?"

"No."

"Okay. So there must have been a reason for you guys to be coming up here. What was it?"

Tim shook his head again.

"I don't know."

"What about before you left? Do you remember anything from your meeting with Vance?"

A long pause and then a shake.

"No."

"Okay. So you were with Gibbs up here. Did you get separated?"

"Supposed to...meet."

"Where?" Tony asked, eagerly, not that it was likely for Gibbs to be in the same place nearly two months later.

"Trying to get there, but they found me."

Tim's eyes closed again as he neared the event that had done all this to him.

"I was running away, but they were all around. Heard dogs...and a gun."

"The guy who found you was hunting."

"I tried to get away from them."

"Why didn't they just shoot you?"

"I don't know."

"I'm not saying I wish they had, but beating you up seems like a lot of extra effort."

Another long pause.

"I don't know."

"That's fine. Anything else? Do you remember where you were supposed to meet with Gibbs?"

"Not in Buffalo. Out in the forest. Keep it...away from them. I was...in Buffalo."

"And?"

Tim's eyes were still closed.

"They found me."

"What were you doing?"

"A ...people involved. Something..."

"Were you alone?"

"They found me."

"Yeah, but before that. Was Gibbs with you?"

"They found me."

Tony wanted to scream at Tim to stop being so redundant, but he resisted. If this was the best Tim could do at the moment, that was what he'd have to accept. He just wanted to get at what Tim had in his head, and it was so frustrating to have him repeating himself.

Then, he paused and realized that Tim was saying they had found _him_ , not _them_. So maybe that meant he had been alone at that point, although that meant that he'd have to figure out where Gibbs might have been. But if this was about people infiltrating federal law enforcement, then, that would explain why Tim was so afraid of contacting anyone. While he was in this state, and while they didn't know how far this might spread, it was definitely dangerous to be exposing themselves. Tony didn't like it, but it sounded like Tim had a good reason for being afraid of letting anyone know where he was.

"Okay, Tim. So you're not ready to tell me everything. That's okay. If you can get any other memory in hand, it would be great if it could be something about Gibbs, though. All right? You know that Gibbs would be okay to talk to." Then, Tony had a horrible thought. Was this about _Gibbs_? "He is, right?"

Then, there was a whoosh of relief when Tim just nodded his head without speaking. While Tony would find the idea of Gibbs being corrupt in that way to be laughable, he could easily see someone looking at the other things Gibbs did and assume that he _would_ be willing to go the extra step over the line. That would just make things ten times worse.

"Good. Because I'm not ready to think Gibbs is the bad guy."

Silence.

"Tim?"

Just a deep breath. Nothing more.

"Are you ready to go back to sleep, now?"

Tim nodded.

"Do you want the lamp on?"

Another nod.

Then, Tim opened his eyes once more.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for...being like this. I can't...think straight. Everything is...off."

"It's okay," Tony said, lying through his teeth. It was _not_ okay. It was so far from okay that he wanted to scream. He just accepted that this was the way it had to be. For now. Hopefully, just for now.

Tim closed his eyes and let out a long, slow exhale. He seemed to relax and Tony waited until Tim looked to be asleep again.

Then, he sighed and got up. He paced back and forth, trying to calm down again. This was so hard to deal with. He couldn't blame Tim for it. It wasn't his fault. That only made it worse because that meant he just had to accept the way things were. At this point, he couldn't make anyone pay for it. He couldn't get out of it. There was no way he could leave Tim here alone.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

The soft voice startled him and he looked over and saw that Tim was _not_ asleep. Then, something that Tim had said before pinged in his brain. Tim had said that he had seen Tony pacing...and Tony only let himself do that when he thought Tim was asleep. That nervous energy would make how he felt all too obvious to Tim.

"I thought you were asleep," Tony said.

Tim shook his head.

"Why not? Aren't you tired?"

"Aren't you?"

"Not at the moment."

Tim raised an eyebrow looking so normal that Tony wanted to laugh. There was that silent skepticism that Tim conveyed so well.

"You could...leave."

Tony laughed humorlessly.

"You've got to be kidding, Tim. You're barely coherent, can't really get out of bed by yourself, can't feed yourself, can't dress yourself, and you're thinking that I'll leave? Not happening."

"You hate being here," Tim said, speaking very slowly and carefully, as if he was trying to make sure every word was correct.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm going to leave."

"You could."

"No, I couldn't. No more than you could leave if you were in my place."

To Tony's surprise, Tim levered himself into a sitting position. The effort clearly pained him, but he did it.

"I still can't really...remember. I can't leave here until I know that I can. You don't have to stay. I hate that you're here, that I brought you here to deal with this. I don't know...why I did when it was supposed to be secret. I should have...not done that."

Tony took a deep breath. Even when he was still a little addled, Tim was annoyingly obstinate, and it forced Tony to be explicit. Come to think of it, maybe that was Tim's ploy. He refused to allow Tony to talk around things by reiterating the same point until Tony had to deny it. If so, that was pretty devious.

"Tim, I admit it. I do hate being here. I hate being stuck here, not knowing what's going on, not knowing who I can trust. But I'm glad I can be here to help you. I don't care that you weren't supposed to ask for help. I don't care how long it takes, even if I'm going completely stir crazy by the end. I'm not leaving you here alone. And that's the end of it. Got it?"

Tim nodded.

"Good. Now, go to sleep for real this time, and I'll try to do the same."

Tim looked at him for a long moment and then nodded and slumped down on the bed. Tony helped him get a little more comfortable and then he walked back to his own bed and lay down. He stared up at the ceiling for a while and then rolled over and tried to get to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up with a start. He had to admit that Tony was right about one thing. He _was_ gradually feeling more normal, at least mentally. Tim was surprised at how much he still hurt after more than a month, but even that was getting better. His body ached but it wasn't the sharp pains he could remember from before. It was just an ache that reached down deep into his bones.

He lay where he was without moving for a few minutes. He just stared at the ceiling. He didn't want to wake up Tony, and Tony seemed uncommonly aware of whether or not Tim was awake.

As he lay, without moving, he tried to consider his own state in more detail. There was a distinct fuzziness in his brain that he couldn't ignore. He didn't know how much that fuzziness was affecting him, but he could acknowledge that it probably was affecting him somewhat. That fuzziness seemed to be obscuring a lot of what had led to him being in this position in the first place. He knew that Tony was really worried about Gibbs, but Tim just couldn't quite get at where Gibbs might have been. Surely, he wouldn't still be there at this point anyway. Would he? Tim had no idea. He'd been here for a long time already. However, even with all that, Tim knew it was getting easier to focus on things. His recent past was still kind of vague and patchy, but things were improving, just not as quickly as he would like.

Then, he turned his attention onto his body. He experimentally wiggled his toes. That didn't hurt. They hadn't done anything to his feet, Tim guessed. Then, he tried tensing his calves. That did hurt, but not _too_ much, although he supposed that what was okay when it was just tension would be worse when he was putting extra pressure. It was harder to think of a way of tensing just the muscles between his waist and his knees, but there was definitely still pain there. Again, not as bad but still present. Then, he tensed his abdomen and there, he almost gasped. It definitely still hurt there. This must have been the focus of the beating. Maybe the rest of it was done when he had fallen to the ground or something.

Arms? Yes, they hurt, too, but more in an achy, sore muscle kind of way. In contrast, his hands hurt a lot more. Flexing his fingers was very painful. Why would that be? Because of a beating or because of fighting back? He couldn't remember, not really. Then, there was the pain in his head. They had definitely tried to bash or kick his head in. He could feel that.

So what that all boiled down to was that Tim knew his abdomen and his head (and, weirdly, his fingers) were the strongest sources of pain, but that everything was starting to improve. He just didn't know how long it would take for that improvement to occur. Should he focus on trying to improve his mind or his body more? Maybe if he could clear out the fuzziness in his head, he would be able to say who they could trust. But if he focused on his body, then, he'd be more able to deal with any potential fallout from contacting someone.

 _Where's Gibbs?_

That question kept coming back to him, in part, because Tony's focus seemed to be in that direction.

" _I think I might have made too much noise, Boss."_

The memory came to him out of nowhere. Instead of moving or saying anything, he tried to pursue it. He could see himself, sitting at a computer...in an office, talking on the phone. Gibbs wasn't there. He was alone.

" _Get out of there, McGee."_

" _But I haven't got everything, yet. I just hit the jackpot. There's still..."_

" _If they've made you, get out. Now!"_

What happened after that? Tim tried to think of it. He could see himself going to the back stairs and heading out of the building, dropping the burn phone he'd been using into a trash can on his way. If they were tracking him down, he didn't want to give them a way to find Gibbs, too.

He could remember being worried, but not really afraid. Not right then.

 _...not until they shot out the tires of my car and I nearly crashed._

That was a new memory. He hadn't remembered driving at all until that moment. But he had been. Driving to link up with Gibbs.

 _And I started running when I couldn't drive anymore._

But they had caught up.

His mind resisted going back to that moment, but he tried to force himself to remember it. Maybe if he could clear that block from his mind, he'd remember more of the details.

Darkness. It had happened during the night.

There were at least five of them. He had tripped over a log, twisting his ankle and slowing him down.

Too much.

The first hit had been to his head.

He could feel it as if it had just happened. A heavy thwack that had knocked him to the ground.

Then, they had picked him up and...

"Tim? Are you all right?"

Tony's voice cut through the memory, jolting him out of his thoughts. While a part of him was irritated that he'd been interrupted, most of him was relieved to set it aside. He opened his eyes and saw Tony leaning over him in concern.

"Tim."

"Did I say something?" Tim asked.

"You were starting to make some weird noises. It's after eight, I slept in, too. Are you okay?"

"Trying to remember."

"How's it going?"

Tim just shook his head. He knew Tony would want and need to know what he could remember, but right now, he was too tired to share it. He let his eyes close and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"Hey, no worries. You want to try showering first or eating first?"

Oh, yeah. He was going to be trying Tony's suggestion of showering instead of letting Tony bathe him. It would likely hurt, but so would sitting up to eat breakfast. It was a choice between pain and pain, but maybe it would be good to see if the showering thing was going to work out and then rest before breakfast if he needed to.

"Showering," Tim said.

"Okay. I'll get the bathroom ready."

Tim nodded and watched as Tony walked to the bathroom with a chair in hand. Tim wasn't looking forward to this, but he figured that he could hardly protest, given that Tony had been so miserable for well over a month. Tim felt bad about that, too.

 _Why did I call him? I shouldn't have called him. Why didn't I tell them to call Gibbs? What was going through my thick skull at the time?_

Tim didn't know, but he knew that he had made a huge mistake in getting Tony involved, and if he had any hope of succeeding, he'd try to leave Tony behind so that he'd be out of it.

"Okay, I'll help you get undressed, but then, I'll let you do the dirty work. If you need any help, just holler."

Tim nodded, thinking that the only reason he'd holler was if he was literally dying. Maybe Tony could read his mind because he suddenly smiled.

"And just to make sure that you have to ask for help when I know you'll need it, I'm leaving your clothes out here."

"I could probably manage it myself," Tim said, hating how slowly he was speaking and how slurred his own voice was. He knew he wasn't quite up to par yet, but he hated hearing himself talk. It sounded wrong.

"You probably couldn't," Tony said, seriously. "Ready?"

Tim nodded, although he wasn't really. Tony leaned over and put an arm around him, just under his armpits and helped Tim stand. Tim instantly felt dizzy and his head began to pound. There wasn't too much pain elsewhere just yet.

"You need a second?"

Tim shook his head, but he kept his eyes closed to reduce the dizziness. Tony helped him to the bathroom, and as little time as it took, Tim was aching by the time Tony helped him sit on the chair in the bathtub.

"Okay. Just sit there and rest for a second while I make sure everything is in your reach."

Tim nodded and willed the pain and weakness away. He hated this. After a little bit, he opened his eyes and watched Tony as he bustled around. There was really no other way to describe it. He was definitely _doing_ things, but it was like he was trying to keep himself busy. Tim decided to see how aware Tony was and started to unbutton the shirt he was wearing, but the motions required dexterity that his fingers just didn't want to provide. It _hurt_.

In a second, Tony was there.

"Let me help you," he said.

In moments, the shirt was off and then, for Tim, the real embarrassment began. He knew that he couldn't really take off his pants by himself, even if they were just sweats, but this was humiliating. He hadn't had to get help undressing since he was a child, and to have _Tony_ being the one helping him, of all people. It was just _really_ embarrassing.

For his part, Tony didn't even acknowledge how embarrassing it was. He just helped Tim stand long enough to get everything off and then lowered him back to the chair. The shower had a handheld shower head and he pulled it down for Tim and then turned on the water.

"Let me know when you're done," he said.

Left alone in the bathtub, Tim didn't want to do _anything_. He wanted to get back in bed and lie down without moving.

 _Wimp. Get moving. You can't get better if you don't do anything._

With a deep breath, Tim picked up the shower head and began the laborious process of getting clean. It took him quite a while and it was painful and slow. Still, when he was done, he had to admit that it felt good to _be_ clean.

He started to reach over to turn off the water, but he put too much pressure on his abdomen and he couldn't suppress the moan.

...and Tony was right there, leaning over to turn off the water and helping Tim straighten up.

"How did it go?"

"Fine," Tim said.

"Right. You ready to get dressed?"

Somehow, the pain and exhaustion had managed to sap Tim's embarrassment. He just nodded and let Tony dry him off.

Before he knew it, it seemed, he was clothed and Tony was helping him back to bed.

"Just rest, Tim. I'll get breakfast going when you're ready for it."

Tim wanted to protest and say that he could do it, but he couldn't. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried not to cry, both because of pain and because of frustration.

And in seconds, he was asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Tony watched as Tim fell asleep and then, he turned his attention to the kitchen. Tim could wait for breakfast until he wasn't hurting so much, but Tony needed to eat. His stomach was growling. So he started making himself some food and he thought about Tim's current state. Clearly, he wasn't ready to do much physically, and the pain had kept him from talking much. Tony had the feeling that Tim could either think or move, but not both to any significant degree. He was still healing, but the fact that he had made it through a shower. That was good.

Right?

 _No, it is good. Tim couldn't have done that a few days ago, and now, he is. He's getting better. Another...day? Week? And he'll be able to think a lot more._

Tony really hoped that he was right. This was so frustrating. Tim was tantalizingly close to being normal and that meant that maybe he'd remember what was going on and they could make a logical decision about whether or not it was safe to contact anyone.

And maybe soon, Tim could have a real conversation and Tony wouldn't feel like he was going to start beating his head against the wall.

He made himself breakfast and sat, facing Tim as he ate. Tim was starting to be aware enough to try and do things on his own that he might not be able to do and Tony didn't want Tim re-injuring himself because he was trying to do too much. He didn't think he could take it if Tim started to get worse instead of better.

Tim didn't stir at all while Tony had his breakfast. After he finished eating, Tony meticulously cleaned up the kitchen area and then settled down to wait for Tim to wake up. He'd have to clean up the kitchen again after Tim ate, but that didn't matter. It would take up time.

He didn't have long to wait. Whether it was hunger or just because he didn't need as much sleep time as he had before, Tim woke up and lay where he was without moving. Instantly, Tony walked over to check on him.

"Ready for breakfast, Tim?" he asked.

Tim closed his eyes and Tony could see the reluctance to feel the pain again, but he was glad when Tim nodded and started trying to sit up. Tony helped him and then paused to let Tim get used to the different position. There was clearly still some healing that needed to happen inside his head.

 _But it's okay. It's getting better,_ Tony said to himself.

Then, Tony got Tim to his feet and helped him over to the table. Tim sat down, looking unhappy and in pain, but he didn't say anything about it. Tony just focused on getting breakfast ready quickly so that Tim could eat and then lie down again with a pain pill (at a lower dosage, now) that would help him. Then, later on, maybe in the afternoon, Tim would be ready for his exercises.

Tim ate without speaking, and while he was obviously in some pain, he ate everything in front of him. Then, he flexed his fingers a little and winced. Tony hadn't realized that Tim's hands were hurting in addition to everything else. Why his hands?

"Ready to get back to bed?" Tony asked.

Tim closed his eyes and nodded.

"Okay."

He helped Tim stand and was happy to note that Tim was trying to carry some of his own weight. He wasn't doing it very well, but he was trying. They got back to the bed and Tony lowered him down. To his surprise, Tim resisted being laid down on the bed. He sat instead. He sat there, breathing heavily and then, slowly, painfully, he manuevered himself around to lay down. He got there and let out a long exhale.

"Did it myself," he said, softly.

Tony grinned. "Yes, you did. Good job, Tim."

Tim smiled a little and then sighed.

"I hate this," he whispered.

"Yeah. Me, too," Tony said.

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

"I am."

Tony laughed a little. Yes, Tim was getting back to himself with that kind of response.

"I know."

"What now?"

"Now, you take your pill, rest up and get ready to do your exercises later today."

"It wasn't this hard before."

"You hadn't been beat up before."

Tim shook his head slowly and then after a few minutes, he was quiet, breathing deeply and evenly. He must be asleep, although Tony didn't dare assume that, not anymore.

"Don't worry, Tim," he said, softly. "It's getting better."

Then, he turned his attention back to the kitchen and cleaned it until he couldn't clean anymore.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thankfully, when Tim awakened the next time, he was alert and ready...at least, that was what he seemed to be. Tony helped him with his exercises, and that tired Tim out, yet again. He fell asleep again. Tony sat around, made dinner, helped Tim eat, helped him back to bed, and they both went to sleep.

That was the routine for the next few days. Tim got a little better every day, but he didn't say much, still. Tony didn't know how to take that, really. It was a definite improvement over his panicked mumbling from before, but it wasn't the kind of recovery he wanted Tim to have. It kept him wondering what was going on in Tim's head (if anything). He just wanted to have things get better than they were.

Then, suddenly, they did.

It was late in the afternoon and Tony was thinking about what he'd make for dinner. Tim was sleeping. The exercises that were building up his muscles again tired him out.

Tony was facing the kitchen, thinking about what was in the cupboards and whether or not he should wait and let Tim make a decision (or see if he even _could_ ).

He heard movement from behind him and he turned around to find Tim sitting up, staring at his hands. He was slowly flexing his fingers. From the expression on his face, that still hurt him, but it didn't look like the agony it had been.

"Tim?" he asked tentatively.

Tim looked up.

"They stepped on my hands," he said softly. He looked back at his hands.

"What?"

"The first hit. It was my head. I fell. I tried to crawl away. They stepped on my fingers to stop me. Then, they picked me up and starting beating me. I tried to fight back. I hit them. I scratched at them. Anything I could do, but I couldn't think straight. And then...after a while, all I could feel was pain. They laughed at me. Told me that no one would ever know who I was. They were going to kill me, and leave me looking so bad that no one would even be able to tell that I was a human being, and I'd be alive to feel all that, until they finally finished me off."

"They didn't," Tony said, keeping his voice soft. If Tim was remembering things, he wanted to encourage it, but he didn't know what would be best.

"And I knew that they'd get to Gibbs if I tried to get to him. I knew that they'd kill Gibbs like they were going to kill me. I knew that, if I couldn't say who they were, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't be able to get away and kill me later."

Tim fell silent again. Tony waited for a few minutes, hoping that Tim would keep talking.

"I couldn't get away from them, and I really tried. I tried so hard, but I didn't. When I realized that I was alive, I knew that I had to make sure I didn't have to go through this again. I knew that I had to stay safe."

And without a complete memory, he'd be at risk. Tony understood now what Tim had meant about not going back. He had been terrified that his life would literally be over if he went back there. If his mind had been working normally, he would have been able to decide if the benefits outweighed the risks of returning. But it wasn't. It was just starting to now.

"What about Gibbs?" he asked in a low voice.

"We had a safehouse, somewhere we could hide if it got too hot. But I don't know why he'd be there, now."

"Will he have gone back?"

"If it's safe."

"Do you think it is?" Tony asked, almost whispering in his effort to guide Tim's thoughts and not startle him.

"I had all the data," Tim said.

That seemed to be a bit of a _non sequitur_ , but then, Tim kept going.

"Without that, we don't know who did it, who was involved."

"Didn't you see anyone?"

Tim looked at him again.

"Did I?" Tim asked, his voice distant. "I don't remember people. I remember monsters."

"Did you see them?"

"Only monsters," Tim said again.

Tony was about to get frustrated, but then, he realized what Tim was saying. The first hit had been to his head. That he could share as much as he had so far was pretty amazing. He remembered the attack.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

Good. A response.

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"I drove. They shot out the tires. That's why I didn't make it. Gibbs told me to leave, but I didn't get out in time."

"How many were there?"

"Too many."

Of course.

Tim was quiet, staring at his hands for a while, but then, suddenly, he looked up, his eyes wide.

"What? What is it, Tim?"

"A phone. I need...a phone."

"Why? I thought you didn't want to call anyone. That it wasn't safe."

"It isn't."

"Okay... want to unpack that for me?"

"I can call Gibbs!"

"How?"

"He had a burn phone, and I'm the only one with the number. I threw away the burn phone I had to make sure they didn't get it. But...I just remembered the number! I can call Gibbs! ...if he has _his_ phone."

"What are the odds of that?"

"I don't know."

Tony didn't like the odds here. It had been almost two months since Tim had been attacked. If Gibbs had gone to ground, would he really keep his phone on him, even a burn phone? At the same time, this was a chance to break the impasse they were stuck in at the moment. Tim was suggesting it himself, and that made Tony want to do it just because of that. His phone had been off, and he hadn't even charged it up, in the hopes of keeping their location secret. Now, he got his phone charger, plugged it in and, after a few minutes, there was enough charge to hand it over to Tim.

"Okay," Tony said. "Try it."

Tim flexed his fingers slightly, and Tony knew that Tim was probably afraid of going through it all again. He was afraid that revealing his location, even potentially, would lead to a repeat of what he'd suffered.

But it was time for something to change.

"Take it, Tim," Tony said, holding out the phone.

Tim swallowed and nodded. He reached out and took the phone. He stared at it for a few seconds. Tony tried not to rush him.

Then, he started to dial. And he stopped part way through.

"What if I'm wrong?" Tim asked.

"You're not. Go on."

There was a long pause.

"I don't know if I've ever been more scared of doing something...and it's so stupid that I am."

"No. It's all right. Just do it. Nike."

Tim laughed a little. And finished dialing.

Then, he lifted the phone to his ear.

"It's ringing," he whispered.

"Let it go," Tony said.

Silence.

"It's still ringing," Tim said. "Maybe, I should hang up. Maybe, it's too risky."

"Let it ring," Tony said. "Just let it ring."

Tim sat there, his eyes wide with fear. He wanted to end this before he was found, whether that was likely or not.

"Let it ring, Tim."

Then, Tim looked at him.

"Someone answered."

" _McGee."_

Tony heard it and it was like a tonic. Tim put the phone on speaker.

"Boss," Tim said.

" _Where have you been? It's been two months!"_

"He was almost killed, Boss," Tony said.

There was a long pause.

" _DiNozzo."_

"Yes. That's me."

Another long pause.

" _What in the world are you doing with McGee?"_

"Keeping me alive, Boss," Tim said.

" _What happened?"_

"They found me. I screwed up."

" _How did Tony get involved? You weren't supposed to be involved in this, DiNozzo."_

"Thanks, Boss," Tony said, sarcastically.

" _Tony."_

"I told someone to call him," Tim said. "I don't know why. I don't remember doing it."

Tim looked ashamed and still afraid. Suddenly, Tony decided that Gibbs needed to understand what had been going on. He had no right to berate Tim, especially with the state that Tim was still in. He took the phone from Tim's slack fingers and turned off the speaker.

"Boss, you have no idea what's been going on here," he said.

"Tony, he's right," Tim said, softly, looking at his hands again.

"No, he's not," Tony said, firmly, and turned away so that Tim couldn't hear everything. "You hear that, Boss? You're not right."

" _Explain."_

"For a month, Tim was barely coherent. He wasn't talking or when he did talk, I could barely understand him. He would freak out and start mumbling and I couldn't understand him at all. The doctor said that he'd had swelling on his brain and internal bleeding. He was so bad that I didn't think he could possibly have survived it. He'd wake up in the middle of the night, scared out of his mind and it'd take me over an hour to calm him down because he wasn't coherent enough to tell me what was wrong. Up until a couple of weeks ago, I was bathing him, feeding him, being his nurse and hating every second of it, but I did it because I didn't know what was going on and neither did Tim. He only knew that he was scared to death of going back. We tried calling you the second Tim remembered that there was a number to try calling. He's still not really back to normal. He's scared. He's slower than he should be. He's in pain. So don't start lecturing either of us. You have no right. We've been doing the best we can."

Another long silence and Tony worried that he'd gone too far.

" _That would explain why I couldn't find him."_

"What happened to you?"

" _Nothing. I went to ground when McGee called me. I waited at the safehouse for a few days and then I started looking for him. I saw the story in the paper, but he wasn't at the hospital when I got there."_

"How long?"

" _About a week after."_

"They tried to kill him right after I got there. Then, I took him out of the hospital and we've been hiding since then."

" _Didn't dare contact anyone. Sent a message to Fornell, said I wasn't coming back until I found out what happened to McGee."_

"And now?"

" _Now, bring McGee back into it."_

"Okay."

Tony walked back over to Tim who was justing sitting there, staring at him. He still looked afraid. Tony didn't blame him. He knew that Tim wasn't fully recovered yet and his ability to react to the trauma without panic was affected.

"It's okay, Tim. I brought Gibbs up to speed."

Tim actually smiled as if he knew exactly what Tony meant. Tony grinned back, set the phone down and put it on speaker again.

"Okay, Boss."

" _I'm sorry, Tim,"_ Gibbs said.

"You were right," Tim said. "I stayed too long. I shouldn't have called Tony. It was my fault."

" _No, it's not."_ Another pause. _"I'm just glad you're still alive."_

"What now?" Tony asked. "Do we come to you?"

" _No. I'll come to you. It'll take some time. You just focus on remembering everything, McGee. The important stuff. The people involved. We need to be able to move once I get there."_

"I'm not remembering it all, Boss," Tim said.

" _Doesn't matter. Remember what you can. Focus on that. Everything else can wait. We need names, McGee. We need something so that we can get out of this. It should never have come to this in the first place. Fornell owes us both big time."_

"How do I remember?"

" _Just try. If you can, you will."_ There was a pause. _"Do you feel secure enough to give me the address?"_

Tony looked at Tim who looked terrified at the very thought.

"I don't know, Boss. Tim's not happy about that."

" _I'm not either. Can't be sure that we're secure, but I can't get to you if I don't know where you are."_

"Yeah. I know." Tony looked at Tim again. "What do you think, McGee? Ready to take a risk?"

Tim shook his head, just a little bit.

"Ready to do it anyway?" Tony asked, smiling.

He was relieved when Tim smiled back.

"Okay, Boss," Tony said. "You ready?"

" _Ready."_

Tony gave the address.

"How long will it take you to get here?"

" _Give me three days."_

"And if you don't show up?"

" _Then, get down to DC and go directly to Vance. No one else. Don't go to NCIS. Go to Vance."_

"Should we go now?"

" _No. Wait for me. Three is better than two."_

"Right. Okay, Boss," Tony said.

" _Tim?"_

"Yeah?" Tim asked.

" _I'm sorry."_

"No apologies," Tim said softly.

" _Well, Fornell definitely owes you one. I won't call again, so don't bother with your phone. Don't call this number again. Just in case."_

"Three days," Tony said.

" _Exactly."_

Then, Gibbs hung up. Tony hung up and turned off his phone again.

"Three days, Tim," Tony said, feeling more excited than he had in ages.

Tim nodded slowly, not really looking excited at all.

"Come on, Tim! Be excited!" Tony said. "Or at least, stop looking like your life is ending. Gibbs is going to get here. We're going to go home."

"But I don't remember, Tony," Tim whispered. "I don't remember."

"You've started remembering things. More will come. I know it. If you remember getting beat up, you'll remember the stuff from before it."

Tony had no idea if he was making stuff up, but he was willing to do so just to be encouraging.

"You want to go home," Tim said.

"Yeah. Don't you?"

"Will I be able to?"

Tony stifled a sigh. He really did understand Tim's lack of excitement, but he wanted to be able to be happy about this getting over. He couldn't with Tim looking so morose.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't you?"

"If I can't remember, then, I won't be able to go home. I'll have to be...protected."

Tony hadn't thought of that, but he wasn't going to let Tim ruin this.

"You'll remember. Gibbs told you to. You'll remember."

"I don't know."

"I do. You remembered Gibbs' phone number. You remembered what happened. You'll remember what you found, too."

Tim nodded, but he still didn't seem very enthusiastic. Tony sat down, gearing himself up to be encouraging while wanting to smack Tim into a better mood.

"Tim, it's going to work out. I promise. You've been getting better and better every day. Just keep it up and that's all you need to do."

Tim nodded again.

"For now, I'm going to make dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Yep. It's time to eat and a momentous occasion like this doesn't mean we skip a meal."

Tony nodded and forced himself to smile. He was rewarded with a slight smile from Tim. He'd take what he could get. So he went to the kitchen and started to pull out some ingredients to make pasta.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

After dinner, they watched TV for a little while, but Tim said he was tired and so they both went to bed. Tim closed his eyes instantly after Tony helped him lay down, but as soon as the light was out, he opened his eyes again. He lay there, unmoving until he heard Tony breathing evenly. That was no guarantee that he was asleep, but it was the best he could do. He didn't want to bother Tony more than he already was, and he really wanted some time to himself.

Tim sat up, ignoring the ache from his still-healing muscles and the dizziness from his still-healing head.

The physical stuff was fading in importance. It still hurt. He still felt wrong, off-kilter, damaged, but what was worse was that his emotional weakness was keeping him from making this over for Tony. He had to remember, even though he didn't want to. ...but he did...but the idea of it terrified him. All in all, he was afraid of going through all this again, but he hated that he was making Tony's life so miserable.

...and he hated that he wasn't sure if he would normally be thinking this way or if all this anxiety was just a part of being beaten almost to death.

The thought made him take a long, deep breath, trying to keep himself from freaking out. He made sure to exhale softly because Tony seemed to hear the slightest noise he made.

 _Can I do this?_

That was the question. Tony was pushing him to remember. Gibbs had ordered him to remember.

...but _could_ he do it?

Tim didn't know. Thinking back to that day...night...whatever... It made him panic. It was a mindless reaction to a memory and even when he tried to control it, he felt his heart rate increasing and his body tensing in fear.

Why?

It wasn't like he hadn't faced frightening situations before. Why had this one made him into such a quivering imbecile?

Slowly, he eased himself to the edge of the bed. Slowly, silently, he put his feet on the floor. Then, he put his hands onto the mattress and pushed himself upward. It was hard. It hurt. He was dizzy.

But he was upright by himself.

Tim stood where he was, with the back of his legs touching the bedframe as he tried to stabilize himself enough to walk. Then, he took a step. And another. He paused to stabilize himself again. Then, he walked a couple more steps. Another pause. At first, he wasn't sure where he was going, but by the time he'd taken about ten steps, he realized that he was headed for the window. Why the window? Tim didn't know. He didn't really care, either. He had walked to the window alone. He hadn't awakened Tony, and now, he could sit down and think.

He sat there in silence, facing the window, thinking.

He sat there for hours.

 _What did I see?_

In actuality, he knew _what_ he had seen. He had found a list of people involved, people whose names had been on the manipulated case files. But what names? And how many would be enough? Had he found them _all_? What if he hadn't? Would the names he found be enough?

 _I want to go home!_

That thought came out of nowhere. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to think about doing just that. Up to this point, he'd felt so strongly that he couldn't go back that going home wasn't even considered.

But he did want to go home. He didn't want to be stuck here. He didn't want _Tony_ to be stuck here. If he could just remember.

...but what if he did? What would happen?

His thoughts kept running around in circles all through the night and while he was tired, he couldn't calm his mind enough to sleep.

So he stayed in the chair and stared out the window.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony woke up and realized that it was light in the room, or at least, it wasn't the darkness of the middle of the night. Had he really slept without waking up once? It had to be a first since coming here. He stretched and sat up.

Then, he had a moment of utter panic when he looked over and saw that Tim's bed was empty.

But a soft sound quickly clued him into the fact that Tim was still in the apartment. He was just sitting in the chair by the window instead of in his bed as Tony would have expected.

In fact, Tim was asleep in the chair, his head leaned back, his mouth open, which would surely lead to snoring at some point.

What was he doing there? How had he _got_ there? Tim wasn't really walking on his own.

Was he?

But why was he sitting in a chair so early and how long had he been sitting there?

"Tim?" Tony said, softly, not wanting to startle someone who was still so easily frightened.

Suddenly, there was a loud snort and the promised snoring materialized. In spite of everything, Tony couldn't suppress a chuckle. It was almost comforting that Tim could do something so Tim-like as to snore loudly.

After a few seconds, he got out of bed and walked over. That was probably not very comfortable, and the last thing Tim needed to be made more uncomfortable than he was with every waking moment. He knew that moving Tim might wake him up, but he couldn't really think of another option.

Carefully, he took hold of Tim's shoulders and tried to change his position just enough to make him comfortable.

It didn't work.

As soon as he moved him, Tim winced and his eyes fluttered open, just for a second. Tony waited to see if Tim was actually going to wake up. Part of him didn't want Tim to wake up. Part of him did so that he could ask Tim what in the world he was thinking.

Then, Tim took a deep breath, winced again and opened his eyes. He looked around and saw Tony leaning over him.

"Tony..."

Tim pushed himself upright, grimacing. Tony reached out to help, but Tim shook his head.

"Did you walk over here?" Tony asked.

Tim actually laughed a little. It sounded weary and pained, but it was a laugh.

"Using the term loosely."

"Why?"

"To think." Tim sighed. "I hate being stupid like this, Tony."

"You're not stupid," Tony said, wishing that he didn't have to play this role of cheerleader when he was not in the best of moods himself.

"Yes, I am. I'm trying not to be, but I am. I can't stop the way my brain keeps working. I want to remember everything, but I'm afraid of what will happen if I do. I can't think past what they did to me, but I don't want you stuck here with me. I want to go home, but I'm afraid to go home."

Tim was starting to get worked up, and Tony didn't want that. Tim became unreasonable when he was worked up. Tony swallowed his own irritation and tried to stop the meltdown before it started. He wished that this wasn't necessary. It was just another indication that Tim wasn't right.

"Tim, stop. You know that this won't help. Just stop and take a breath."

Tim covered his face with his still-marred hands.

"I wasn't like this, was I?" he whispered.

Tony grimaced and then took a breath. He reached out and pulled Tim's hands away from his face, making sure his grip was gentle. No sense in adding to the problem by causing Tim pain.

"Tim, look at me."

Tim's eyes opened and Tony could see the roiling emotions that Tim just couldn't control right now.

"No, you weren't like this. It's okay that you are right now. You'll get better. And do you know what will help you get better?"

"What?"

Tony smiled. "If we can go home so that you can get help with all this stuff."

To his relief, Tim managed a tremulous smile himself.

"Now, why did you walk over here?"

"To try and think right, but I can't, Tony. I can't think right."

Now that there was a definite time limit that they'd be here, Tony found himself getting _really_ antsy. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted Gibbs to get here so that someone else could be in charge. He wanted to get back to DC so that he could stop being stuck here with only Tim for company. He just wanted this to be over, but he struggled to set that desire aside while Tim was genuinely trying to make this better.

"You will, Tim. But if you make yourself panic every time, all you're going to do is wear yourself out for nothing. You might as well wear yourself out doing _something_."

"Like what?" Tim asked.

"It's your day to shower. You feel up to it?"

Tony saw the look on Tim's face. The answer was _no_ , but Tony was pretty sure that Tim would say yes anyway. He forced another smile.

"Hey. This is the last time you'll have to worry about it! Gibbs will be here in two more days!"

He could the uncertainty about whether or not that was a bad thing as well.

"You ready?"

Tim nodded.

"Yeah."

Tony reached out to help Tim stand.

"No. I'll do it," he said.

Tony stood back and watched as Tim weakly and painfully pushed himself to his feet. He could see Tim's arms shaking and the grimace as he used muscles that still weren't used to it, muscles that had been torn and damage by the people who had wanted him dead.

But finally, Tim was upright.

"You going to walk to the bathroom by yourself or do you want me to help?" Tony asked.

"Help," Tim whispered.

"Okay."

Tony moved over and gave Tim the support he needed to make the trek to the bathroom. Tony could feel Tim's whole body shaking, but he had stood up by himself. He helped Tim sit on the chair and then withdrew to give him some privacy.

Once he was alone in the room, Tony let out a weary sigh and rubbed his hands over his head. He wished, how he wished, that Tim would just be normal again. How he wished that he could escape this prison. He wanted to run away from this place, never be stuck inside again, never have to deal with Tim again.

And he knew that it wasn't Tim's fault. He knew that Tim was trying his best, that it was amazing how well he was doing when one considered that his only therapy, physical or mental, was coming from a guy who knew nothing about either physical or psychological therapy.

They were going to need a break from each other when this was over.

Over. Oh, it needed to be over. Gibbs would be here in two days.

Tony tried not to think about what it might mean if he wasn't. No matter what Tim said, they would leave in two days. If Gibbs wasn't here by then, they were still leaving. No matter what. Tony was _not_ going to stay in this apartment for more than two more days. No way. No how.

He was startled to hear the water turn on in the bathroom. Tim had done it by himself for the first time. Tony was glad, but he couldn't help but listen closely to make sure that nothing went wrong in there.

After about ten minutes, the water went off. Tony walked over to the door.

"You okay in there?"

"Yeah," came the weary reply.

"You need help?"

"Not yet."

"Okay."

He waited for another ten minutes and then, Tony knocked again.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"You need help?"

"Yeah."

Tony opened the door and saw that, to his relief, Tim had managed to get his pants on by himself, but the shirt had fallen to the floor, and Tim's shaking arms looked to be barely holding him upright. Quickly, Tony picked it up and helped Tim get it on.

"You want to rest first or have breakfast?" Tony asked.

"Breakfast," Tim said, softly. "Then, rest."

"Okay."

Tony helped Tim walk out of the bathroom and over to the table. Tim was pale and shaking, but he sat down and stayed sitting, instead of slumping.

"Smoothie all right with you?"

"Yeah," Tim said.

Tony got the feeling that Tim wouldn't complain about anything Tony said at the moment. He was too tired. So he grabbed the stuff he needed for the smoothie. It would be easier for Tim to eat it and it would have plenty of nutrients in it. ...since Tony would make sure it did. He blended it all together, poured it into a glass and put a straw in so that Tim didn't have to pick up the glass to drink.

"Here you go," Tony said.

"Thanks," Tim said.

That was all. He drank it fairly quickly and then Tony helped him back to the bed. Tim lay down and his eyes closed almost instantly. He hadn't said much, but that was par for the course as far as things had been going. When Tim got tired, he stopped talking.

Tony watched until Tim relaxed and was breathing evenly. He seemed to be asleep. Even if he wasn't, he was no longer as tense and that was good, too.

...so Tony went back to the kitchen and started to clean.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

That day went very slowly. Even for Tim, who wasn't really sure he wanted to leave this apartment, it was slow. Once he woke up, Tony had him doing his exercises, but Tim's mind wasn't really on them. It was on whether or not he could bring to mind any of the names he'd found. He _knew_ that he must have found some. He _knew_ that he'd had suspicions before, but all the names were absent from his memory at the moment. Was it actual damage to his memory or was it just more of his being stupid?

"Tim?"

And if it was just his being stupid, how did he _stop_ being stupid and start thinking right again? He hadn't been so stupid before. How could he hope to let this be over if he couldn't stop his stupidity and remember the names he'd found?

"Tim."

And what about Tony? What about Gibbs? How could this be over for them if he couldn't stop being stupid?

"Tim."

A slight shaking jarred him from his ruminations and he looked up at Tony. Tim decided that he hated being so weak that he couldn't even handle sitting up for long periods of time.

"What's going on, Tim? I don't like it when you stop responding to me."

"It's not like my responses are any good anyway," Tim said, feeling bitter...and stupid.

"Hey, come on. Don't talk like..."

"No," Tim interrupted. "You need me to remember, and I can't remember, Tony!"

Tim saw a flicker of disappointment in Tony's eyes that was quickly hidden. But Tim had seen it this time. He knew that Tony hated being here. He knew that Tony wanted to leave. He felt that same anxiety that kept coming in and taking over his mind.

"And you hate it, too!" he said. "You hate that I can't remember! You want to leave."

"Yeah, I do, but you're not going to get anywhere by making yourself panic, Tim," Tony said. "You just need to calm down and take your time."

"As long as it's only two days! I can't remember!"

"Tim! Calm down!" Tony said again.

"I know I must have known them before!" Tim said. "I know that I must have found them! I can't remember!"

"Tim! Listen to me!"

"The names have to be in my head, Tony! They have to be! If I looked at them, I saw them. They're in there! I can't remember them, but they have to be there!"

"Tim! Stop!" Tony said, loudly, punctuating each word with a shake.

Tim was almost hyperventilating, but he stopped talking.

"I get it. You're freaked out, but you need to calm down. I can't be hysterical if you are. One of us has to be calm, and I'm tired of it being me."

The words gradually penetrated and Tim managed to smile a little, but he wanted to cry. In fact, he felt his face starting to crumple a little and he mastered the impulse.

"Just take a deep breath and calm down. You need to be calm more than you need to remember."

"No. That's not true. I need to remember," Tim said.

"Yeah, you do. I'm not saying you don't, but if it's making you panic like this, just calm down. We have time, and even if you don't remember by the time Gibbs gets here, we'll figure something out. If you start working yourself up, all you're going to do is make things worse," Tony said. "So take a deep breath."

Tim nodded, but his mind wasn't really on what Tony said.

"Tim, I said take a deep breath!" Tony repeated.

"Why?"

"Just do it, Probie!"

Tim took a deep breath. He felt the pull a little in his chest, but it didn't hurt much.

"Now, let it out slowly."

Tim let it out in a whoosh.

"No! Slowly! Try again. Deep breath."

"Why are you doing this, Tony?"

"Just trust me for once, Probie. Deep breath."

Tim breathed in.

"Now, let it out slowly. _Slowly._ "

Tim tried to let the air out slowly.

"Good. Do it again."

Tim obeyed.

"Again."

That was all that happened for about five minutes. And Tim managed to calm down like Tony kept telling him to do.

"Good. Feeling better?"

"Yeah...but what if–?"

"No. We're not going to do that again, Tim. It'll come if it can. It's not the end of the world if it doesn't. It might make things more complicated, but we'll survive."

"Will we?" Tim whispered.

"Yes," Tony said, firmly. "If I have managed to hide out here for two months without anyone finding us, then, we won't automatically be in danger just because we leave. If they knew where we are, they'd have come after us already."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"That doesn't surprise me. But no matter what, Tim, you just need to calm down. We _will_ be fine. Two more days and Gibbs will be here. Two more days and we'll know what to do next."

"Gibbs isn't perfect."

"No, but we'll be _doing_ something and there will be someone else helping out. That's a good thing. Don't think of what could go wrong. Think of what will be going right. Gibbs is okay. That means that they didn't find him, either. It's going to work out, Tim. It is."

Tim nodded. He wasn't as confident, but he could tell that Tony wanted him to be. So he gave the answer Tony wanted.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Okay," Tony said. "I need to make dinner. Why don't you watch TV. Stop thinking about what you can't do and relax."

"Okay," Tim said again.

He let Tony help him over to the couch and he sat down and stared at the TV without really seeing anything.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony held back a sigh as he tried to decide what to make for dinner. It was good that Tim was starting to want to remember, but at the same time, it was clear that he was not in a good mental state to deal with it. Tony had no idea what to do about that. His focus had been completely on Tim's physical health, not his psychological health, and this was frustrating and a little scary to see. Tim was just not able to think rationally about what had happened, and he was reacting mindlessly to his fear.

Two more days. Just two more days.

That was all that was keeping him from losing it now. The knowledge that _something_ would change in two days preserved his sanity.

Two more days.

 _I can do this for two more days. I can do it._

He decided on soup for dinner again. It was just so much easier on Tim if he didn't have to worry about too much chewing or anything like that. And it was so easy to get Tim to eat what he needed using soup as the medium. But this time, Tony decided that he was going to make soup instead of just open up a can. ...well, he'd open up a can of broth, but that was simply because he didn't have time or resources to make his own...and he'd never done that before anyway. However, if he'd been able to, he would have tried it just to take up more time.

He got out every ingredient he needed. Pulled out the pots he'd need. Checked on all the measurements from the recipe. Checked them again. Then, he finally started to assemble the meal. He probably took twice as long to do it that way, but he didn't care. It took up time.

Two more days.

 _I'm going to beat my head against the wall if I have to do this for more than two more days._

No. He couldn't think that way. Just like Tim couldn't let himself panic about remembering or not remembering. He couldn't let himself start to worry about what would happen if, for some reason, they ended up having to stay here even longer.

He didn't blame Tim for this, but at the same time, he was really frustrated that he couldn't just make Tim get better, make Tim act like himself, make Tim stop being so afraid of everything, make Tim remember. Too much depended on Tim, and Tony hated knowing that it really didn't depend on him doing anything but acting as support for someone who was a little unhinged at the moment.

Dinner. That was what he needed to worry about right now. Just dinner. Soup. It didn't have to be complicated. It was just dinner. Just soup.

He looked over at Tim who was ostensibly watching television. Tony could tell that Tim wasn't really paying attention to what was on the screen. He figured that Tim was still thinking about what he couldn't remember, but at least he was calm about it this time.

It gave a little bit of silence, a little bit of calm in the wake of Tim's latest freak out. And yet, at the same time, Tony hated the silence, too. It didn't really make sense, but there it was. Tony hated the silence but when the alternative was Tim having a meltdown, he would take the silence instead.

He continued fussing over the soup, staying in the kitchen, staring at the pot, waiting for the veggies to cook down so that Tim could eat them easily.

Two more days.

All too soon, the soup was ready and Tony knew he had to disrupt the uneasy silence and get Tim to eat dinner. It wasn't what he wanted to do, but Tim needed to eat. Both of them needed to eat, and Tony couldn't let himself be afraid of what would come next. He'd been joking, but it was true that one of them had to be calm and rational. It couldn't be Tim right now. So that left only one option.

"Tim, you ready for dinner?" he asked.

No response. Stifling another sigh, Tony walked over to the couch and sat down beside Tim as he stared vacantly at the TV.

"Tim, time to eat. You hear me?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tim said.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

"You need help?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Tony helped Tim stand and walk to the table. Tim sat down and ate everything Tony gave him. He didn't speak. Tony knew that Tim wasn't really in a state to comment on the taste of the food, but he was used to people liking what he made. And in this case, Tim didn't seem to care. He just ate because Tony made him eat. When he finished, Tim pushed himself to his feet on his own, but then, Tony had to help him back to his bed. Tim lay down and his eyes closed. Tony watched him for a few minutes...and then went back to the kitchen to thoroughly clean every square inch.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was dark when Tim woke up. He lay there, in the dark, for a long time. He didn't move, didn't speak. He hoped that Tony was asleep. He didn't want to disturb him.

No matter what Tony said, Tim knew that he _had_ to remember those names. It was vital that he remember them. Nothing was more important than remembering who he had found. Calm wasn't more important. His health wasn't more important. He had already been nearly killed. He wasn't likely to be killing himself, no matter how panicked he might get.

 _I have to remember!_

He just didn't know how to jar those memories loose. He didn't know what it would take to retrieve information that he knew must be in there somewhere.

 _I have to remember!_

What would it take? What could he do? How could he control his stupid mind enough to get himself in a state to remember what he should know already?

 _I have to remember!_

He lay there for an unknown period of time, desperately trying to think of what he couldn't think of.

...and then, suddenly...

Everything changed.

There was a knock on the door.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Tim sat up in bed, instantly, ignoring the pain he felt from that motion. Tony was sitting up in bed as well.

"Someone knocked, Tony," Tim whispered, terrified.

"Yeah, I heard it. It's... oh... It's barely after three. If this isn't Gibbs..."

Tim felt himself start to shake with fear. He could only see Tony's silhouette in the darkness, but he didn't want Tony to turn on a light and expose him to the people who would kill him if they saw him. He was so afraid of that soft knock on the door that he couldn't even speak again.

Then, out of the darkness, there was a hand on his arm. He whimpered in terror. They had come after him in the dark.

"It's okay, Tim. It's going to be Gibbs. I know it's going to be Gibbs. If these guys tracked us down, they wouldn't be knocking. Don't worry about it."

There was another soft knock. Tim jumped and let out another soft whimper. He knew he shouldn't be so afraid, but he was.

He was so afraid that the pain didn't even matter. All that mattered was the fear.

"It'll be fine, Tim. Just wait and see."

Then, the hand disappeared and Tim saw Tony's dark form headed for the door. He wanted to cry out for Tony not to open the door. He wanted to say that he shouldn't open the door, shouldn't let anyone in. This place, as uncomfortable as it was, was the only safe place in the world. If Tony opened the door, he was letting the world inside, and they had been isolated from the rest of the world for a long time.

He wanted to shout all that, but he said nothing. He couldn't.

"It's going to be fine, Tim," came Tony's voice out of the darkness.

Tim couldn't see him when he was at the door. No light reached that point.

There was a moment of silence and then, there was the noise of Tony taking off the chain, turning the deadbolt, unlocking the door.

"No..." Tim managed to whisper, but it was almost inaudible.

The door opened.

"Boss!" Tony said, the deep relief evident in his voice.

Tim's heart was thudding so loudly in his ears that he couldn't hear a response, if there was one. He could see something, but what he could see was Tony's silhouetted form.

"Tim, look! It's Gibbs. Just like I said."

Tim couldn't see Tony, but the light from the hall hit his face and he was blinded by the suddenness of it. Then, there was a hand on his arm again.

He couldn't see! He was blind! Tim began to hyperventilate. They'd caught up to him!

"No, Tim. Calm down. It's okay. It's Gibbs, just like I said. It's Gibbs, Tim!"

"McGee."

Another voice. A voice that wasn't Tony's voice.

And suddenly, Tim wasn't in the apartment anymore. He was somewhere else.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

" _You think you can do this, McGee?" Gibbs asked._

" _I can do this," Tim said, firmly. "All it takes is an empty computer and I know where there will be one. I can do this. An empty computer and ten minutes. I know what names to check and those will lead me to the others. I can do this."_

" _What if they find you?"_

" _Then, I'll run," Tim said. "I'm not going to be stupid about this, Boss. I'm no superhero. If I'm outnumbered, I'll do my best to get away."_

" _I can't be there. They already know me by sight."_

" _I know that. I can be there by myself. One is less visible than two anyway."_

 _x.x.x.x.x.x.x_

"What's going on, Tim?" Tony asked. "Come on. Talk to me!"

But Tim wasn't responding. He was as stiff as board and his breathing was irregular again. His eyes were closed, but Tony figured that it probably didn't matter.

"Tim!" He looked at Gibbs. "I don't know what to do when he gets like this, Boss. ...actually, I don't know what to do at all. I just know that I hate it."

Gibbs was typically silent, but he kept his hand on Tim's arm, seeming to think that it would make a difference. And maybe it would. Tony just didn't know.

"Come on. Don't do this, Tim," Tony said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Everything that they'd been doing up this point had built up to this one moment, and Tim was ready for this whole clandestine investigation to be over. He didn't like having to sneak around. He'd never been good at sneaking. Tony was much better. He didn't like it, but he'd do it if it meant that this was it. They'd go back to D.C., drop off the data and then get back to their real jobs. It would almost be a relief to investigate something as simple as a murdered petty officer in Rock Creek Park._

 _He dove into the computer. He knew where to start. He knew what case to start with. They'd found out that much without getting into the FBI office. Now, was the time to see how long the legs were...and how far they'd run._

 _Suddenly, without any fanfare, he had it. All the links he'd been making between names and cases, the people who'd got away, the ones with missing evidence. All of those things finally resulted in a single list of names. He stared at the list. It was longer than he'd expected, but shorter than it could have been considering how worried Fornell had been. There were maybe ten names here. That didn't mean that was everyone, but it would give Fornell the people he should start with._

 _He started to save everything he'd found to a flash drive. Just the names might not be enough. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with this any longer simply because he didn't get all the data that Fornell wanted._

 _Then, there was a blip. It was very brief. He almost missed it, but it was unmistakable._

" _Uh oh."_

 _Someone knew he was on the computer. Someone knew what he was looking at._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Wait, Tony," Gibbs said.

"Wait for _what_?" Tony demanded. "Do you know how many times I've had to see him like this in the last couple of months? I don't want..."

"He's remembering," Gibbs said. "Let him remember."

"Not like this," Tony said.

"Like this. Don't have time for anything else."

Tony was briefly seized by a desire to punch Gibbs in the face for how callous he seemed to be, both about Tim's most recent freak out and about his own dislike in seeing Tim go through it.

At the same time, however, he had too many years of following Gibbs' orders to refuse to now.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _After Gibbs told him to get out, Tim tried to get out as quickly as possible. At first, however, he wasn't too worried. They might have found him in the computers, but they still didn't know who he was._

 _He went out and got into his car. Then, he was driving away from the building, ready to go and meet up with Gibbs and get out of there._

 _He thought he was okay._

 _...until he noticed that he was being followed._

 _No, not just followed. Pursued._

" _Uh oh."_

 _He'd already discarded his burn phone. He couldn't call Gibbs back. He couldn't risk Gibbs getting caught in this either. He'd just have to get away from them before he headed for the cabin. He started to speed up._

 _So did they._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"All right. That's enough," Tony said.

He pushed Gibbs to the side and started to try and pull Tim out of whatever mental state he was currently in.

"Come on, Tim. You're not back in the woods again. You're fine. You're safe here. Gibbs is here. We're going home!"

For far too long, there was no response at all. Then, Tim's eyes opened at he looked at Tony, at first, with that terrible blankness that had colored the first few weeks. Then, Tim blinked and he seemed to be seeing things again.

"Tim, do you hear me?"

Tim nodded without speaking.

"You're okay. Gibbs is here and we're going to leave."

Tim stared at him for a few seconds, just breathing deeply.

"Tim?"

"Roy Demaines. Joanna Larson. Harold Frieburg."

"What?"

"Anyone else, McGee?" Gibbs asked, breaking his silence again.

Tim didn't looked away from Tony. He spoke slowly, without inflection.

"Cassidy Malan. Fredrick Allen. Terrence McConnan. John Reynolds."

The names. Tim had remembered the names. Tony was thrilled, except that he wasn't sure Tim was happy about it.

"Theresa Flores. Melanie Johanson. Christopher O'Neill. David Dolan."

Then, Tim stopped speaking.

"Is that everyone, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Long silence. Tony saw Tim start flexing his fingers again.

"No, Tim. It's not happening again. You're safe. Got it?"

Tim clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes again.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to go home."

"Then, we'll go home."

"But _can_ I go?" Tim asked.

"Yes," Gibbs said. "We're getting you home and we're telling Fornell that it's over for us. No more."

Finally, Tim looked at Gibbs instead of Tony. It was like he was allowing something else to exist in his world for the first time. It was simultaneously a relief and a disappointment.

"Can it really be over?" Tim asked.

"Yes. He'll do what he has to so that it _is_ over. Can you walk?"

"He can a little, but I help him most of the time," Tony said.

"Okay. Then, let's go. Now."

"Now?" Tony repeated.

"Why give them a chance if they're still in the area? Let's go."

Tony couldn't argue with that. He nodded and got up to gather their things. As he walked away, Tim grabbed at his arm.

"Tony?"

"I'm just packing, Tim. No worries. Gibbs is right here."

Tim looked at him and then at Gibbs and Tony could see him trying not to freak out yet again.

"It's okay, Tim. It's going to be over."

Tony was as quick as he could be, packing only the essentials. He always was cleaning, so the apartment wouldn't be left a mess. He also would leave a note to the landlord since they'd be gone in the middle of the night, but he was all paid up, too. No problems there.

Then, he was back to Tim.

"Ready to go, Tim?" he asked.

"What's out there?" Tim asked, almost in a whisper.

"Just the rest of the world, Tim," Tony said, forcing himself to sound chipper. "And since this place isn't exactly happening, the rest of the world will be better. You know what's out there. You've been there plenty of times."

Tim smiled and Tony was relieved to see it. He looked at Gibbs. This was the time to get Tim moving. While he was still connected enough to get the joke. Gibbs nodded and pulled Tim upright more gently than Tony had expected him to be. Gibbs wasn't often gentle with anyone. Then, they headed for the door. Tim hesitated before letting Gibbs help him out. Tony knew why. Tim hadn't been anywhere else for the last couple of months and the last time he'd been out there he'd nearly been killed.

"You want to go home, Tim. We're going home," Tony said.

"Right."

Tony locked the door behind them and then followed Gibbs and Tim out to Gibbs' car.

Or rather, Gibbs' van. And it wasn't just any van. It was an old 1970s Chevy Van, complete with flames painted on the sides. It didn't exactly seem Gibbs' style.

"Boss, you bought a van?" Tony asked in surprise.

Gibbs smiled slightly.

"Thought it might be useful."

He shifted Tim to lean on Tony instead while he got out the keys and opened up the side doors. Tony was surprised to see a thin mattress on the floor, held in place by some blocks, along with blankets. A duffle bag lay on the floor by the rear doors. Gibbs looked back and saw Tony's expression. He smiled.

"Wasn't going to check into a hotel," he said.

Then, he helped Tim into the van and lay him down on the mattress.

"Ready to go, DiNozzo?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tony said, trying not to let out how _much_ he was ready to go.

"Then, let's get out of here."

Tony nodded. Gibbs closed the side door of the van and then they both got in the front seat. Gibbs turned the key and a noisy, large engine roared to life. Tony looked at Gibbs. Gibbs looked back and smiled again.

"V-6 engine?" Tony guessed.

"Small block V-8," Gibbs said.

Then, he put the van in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving the past two months behind.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"What happened to him?" Gibbs asked softly.

They'd been driving for about an hour, and it had been silent. Tim seemed to have calmed enough to sleep, although Tony knew from experience that it wasn't always indicative, and even if he had, there was no way of knowing how long that would last. Tony glanced back into the back of the van where Tim was lying motionless on the mattress. His breathing was deep and even. Probably asleep, but Tony would keep his voice down anyway.

"From what he's managed to tell me, they followed him after he finished getting those names and shot out his tires. He ran into the forest, trying to lose them, but they caught up and nearly killed him. They told him that they were going to beat him so badly that no one would even know who he was. For days, I couldn't even understand him when he would talk, his face was so swollen. He was so out of it that he didn't know where he was or even probably that he knew me. Man, Boss... I honestly don't know if I would have recognized him when I first saw him. They really did their best to beat him to death. The doc said that he had asked for me and that he couldn't go back, but I don't know how he even managed to say anything. By the time I got up there, he was so out of it that he probably wouldn't have known me from Adam. As bad as it is now, it was way worse."

"How much worse?"

Tony smiled incredulously. "Boss, Tim was so out of it that he'd freak out with the littlest thing. He'd be just lying there and then, suddenly, he'd be panicking because something reminded him of what had happened. He couldn't even talk about it until we called you, not really. Every time he tried, he'd have a flashback of what happened and it would take forever to calm him down. And in the beginning, it seemed like every time I touched him to move him or feed him or whatever, I made him hurt somewhere. They were really trying to kill him as painfully as possible. Two of his teeth were knocked out. There were bruises everywhere on his body. He was bleeding internally. I don't think he had much time before they would have killed him."

Silence again.

"But all that wasn't the worst part. The worst has been seeing him struggle with just thinking straight. You can hear it in his voice. He even talks more slowly and not just that. He needs therapy, Boss. He is so afraid of that happening again that he can't see past it, and I don't blame him. I don't think I'm going to be able to forget all this anytime soon, and it didn't happen to me."

Another silence.

"You might need the help, too, DiNozzo."

Tony wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. "You might be right."

The van hit a large pothole that jolted them all. Tony heard Tim's gasp and he instantly moved back to check on him, make sure he didn't freak out again.

"Where are we?" Tim whispered, his eyes opening wide in fear.

"Pennsylvania," Tony said, soothingly. "Don't worry. Right on track. Six more hours and we'll be in D.C. and all this will be over for us. Let Fornell do some worrying."

"I'm sorry, Tony," Tim said.

"Don't be. I get it."

"But I'm..."

"No. Just relax. Go back to sleep. Gibbs will try to miss the potholes from now on."

Tim's eyes closed, but Tony stayed by him until Tim's body relaxed and his breathing evened out. Then, Tony got up and climbed back into the front. Gibbs glanced at him.

"Will you be able to stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" Tony asked.

"Checking on him just to make sure he's okay."

"I _have_ to do that right now, Boss," Tony said, defensively. "Tim _needs_ that."

"But will you be able to stop when he doesn't?"

"Of course I will. Do you have any idea what I've been doing the last few months?"

"Yeah. Taking care of McGee."

"And cleaning. And cleaning. And cleaning. I was going crazy in that dinky apartment, trying to find some way to fill all the time I had. At least, in the last month, I could spend some time on helping Tim do the exercises he needed to start building up his muscles again."

"Tony, will you be able to stop doing all that now?"

"Yeah. Of course," Tony said, feeling more than a little confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it's all you've been doing," Gibbs said bluntly.

Tony rolled his eyes. Gibbs had no idea how freeing it was to know that it wasn't all on him anymore. If he wasn't going to explain himself, then, Tony didn't feel the need to give it any thought.

"What about you? What have you been doing?"

"Hiding out. Trying to figure out where McGee disappeared to, especially since he never showed up in D.C. Couldn't stay in the cabin. Got this van from some guy selling it in his front yard. Been staying in it since then."

"I'm glad we were that good at hiding, then. I didn't plan very much in advance."

"Sometimes, that's better."

Another silence and Tony thought about what Gibbs had said and _not_ said.

"You thought Tim was dead, didn't you."

"Seemed likely."

"You thought they'd caught him."

"He told me they found him in the computers. Never heard from him again after. Tried calling his phone once, but no answer. I figured that they'd killed him and hidden the body."

"What about the hospital?"

"I figured that they'd found him there and finished the job."

"Then, why not go back?"

"I don't leave a man behind, DiNozzo."

"So what were you doing, then?"

"Trying find where they might have buried him."

Yikes. That was a gruesome task to pursue for two months. Tony didn't envy Gibbs that, but he couldn't help being kind of glad that Gibbs had been miserable, too. After all this mess, everyone should have been having a rotten time of it.

"Do you think Tim was right about not going back?"

Gibbs glanced at him again and Tony knew that Gibbs had heard the unspoken _real_ question: _Did we waste our time hiding out in that apartment?_

"Probably. Not remembering the names, knowing that they'd already tried to kill him again once, probably best that we were both hiding out for a while. At this point, they probably dropped their guard a bit."

"No news is good news."

Gibbs nodded.

"What about this case? You think they'll have covered their tracks?" Tony asked.

"I'd be surprised if they hadn't tried."

"And what about how much time has passed?"

"Don't know. Don't really care. All I want is to get back to what we should have been doing. There's no way to pay back what Tim went through."

"No." That Tony could completely agree with. There was no way to repay Tim for every moment of pain he'd suffered and all the anxiety he was dealing with now. Nothing could make that better.

At the same time, though, it would be a shame if Tim went through all this for nothing. So Tony wanted to get back to his job, but he also wanted all this to mean something.

"Can it really be over for Tim right away?" Tony asked after another silence. "He asked if he could really go back."

"Not right away, but you think he _could_ anyway?"

Tony thought about Tim's lingering pains, his obvious anxiety that could even be PTSD.

"No."

"Exactly. We get back, put him in rehab somewhere and by the time he's ready..."

"It'll be safe," Tony finished. "I hope so. I hate seeing him like this, Boss. It's just wrong for Tim to be...so... beat up and beat down."

"It won't last. He'll get over it."

"I hope so," Tony said again. That was really all he could do at this point.

"Might as well get some sleep," Gibbs said. "Got a ways to go."

"What about you? Don't you need sleep, too?"

Gibbs smiled.

"I'll bet I've been getting better sleep than you."

"More?"

"Didn't say that. I said better."

Tony couldn't deny that he was starting to feel tired, and as always, Gibbs showed no indication of such a human frailty as tiredness. So Tony leaned back the seat and tried to relax enough to get to sleep, if only to show Gibbs that he was wrong.

 _It'll be a relief to be off duty for a while,_ Tony thought and closed his eyes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Darkness. Something rumbling.

A car over rough roads.

They had chased him.

Into a forest.

Tim opened his eyes, trying to escape the memory.

It was still dark, and he muffled a whimper of instinctive fear. He didn't want to disturb Tony yet again. But he wished someone could tell him it was okay. He tried to breathe as quietly as possible, trying to keep himself from freaking out completely, necessitating Tony's help.

But it was dark.

"It's okay, McGee."

The voice startled him. Who was it?

"Try to stay quiet if you can. Tony's finally sleeping."

Then, it pinged on his brain and Tim was heartily embarrassed that he'd forgotten what had happened not more than a few hours before.

Gibbs. He'd come. They were going home.

Still unable to get rid of that fear, Tim painfully pushed himself up to sitting and turned himself around so he could see who else was in the van.

"Still hurts?" Gibbs asked, his voice low, barely audible over the noisy engine.

"It's...not that bad," Tim whispered. "Been worse."

There was a long silence and Tim almost managed to tamp down the fear again.

"Sorry I didn't find you in time," Gibbs said. "Could have saved everyone a lot of problems if I had."

"Not your fault," Tim said. "They were right behind me."

The feeling of pursuit rose up again and Tim tried not to panic. He wanted Tony to tell him it was okay, but he didn't want to ask for it. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it again.

He was startled by a hand on his arm. Not squeezing, not really gripping at all. Just a touch.

Tim opened his eyes and saw Gibbs looking at him in the rearview mirror.

"I'm sorry. We shouldn't have done it."

"They found me," Tim said in a low voice. "It was my fault. I was sloppy."

"No. No, it wasn't your fault. We should have... _I_ should have told Fornell that we were done. There was no reason for us to keep on with it."

"Am I done now?"

"Yes."

"It can't be that simple," Tim said. "They followed me. They tried to kill me."

"Only because you were the one in the computers," Gibbs said. "They don't know who you are. Not really. Unless they gave you a chance to talk."

"No."

"Then, they don't know you."

Tim took a deep breath and nodded, even though he couldn't believe it was that simple.

"Tim, it's going to be fine."

Another disbelieving nod. Tim couldn't muster up any enthusiasm for the moment. He knew that Gibbs could tell he didn't really believe it.

"Where are we going?" Tim asked, finally.

"Vance. To start. Then, wherever we need to."

"Where will that be?"

"Don't know yet."

"Maybe we should go back," Tim said.

"No. That's done."

Again, Tim nodded. He didn't want to deal with the uncertainty, but he knew that Gibbs was in charge at the moment. ...or at all moments when he was present.

He looked at Tony who was asleep, something Tim had seen only rarely. He knew that Tony didn't want to go back to what they'd been doing. If he was honest, Tim didn't want to, either.

"You feel like sleeping some more?"

Tim thought about it.

"No."

"Fine by me."

Silence fell and Tim sat where he was, wondering what would come next. He kept expecting to hear gunshots, people shooting out the tires because they'd found him again, people wanting to kill him. He closed his eyes and tried not to panic yet again.

"It's okay, Tim. Don't worry. They haven't found us."

Tony.

Tim opened his eyes and tried to apologize, but he couldn't speak yet.

"We're almost there. Not much left to go. It's almost dawn."

It was, too. Tim hadn't realized so much time had passed, but he nodded, unable to say anything intelligible.

"Just relax. We're going to make it."

Tony sat beside him on the mattress, helping Tim stay calm, and Tim needed it, even though he wished that he _didn't_ need it.

Neither of them spoke, and Gibbs didn't say anything, either. It was just driving until finally, Gibbs slowed down and pulled into the driveway.

"Stay inside for minute," Gibbs said and hopped out.

"What now?" Tim asked.

"Now, he makes sure that we can get into the house and we go in until we figure out where we're going to have you go to finish up this whole recovering thing," Tony said. "Nothing to worry about."

"Right."

A few minutes later, Gibbs was opening the back door to the van and Tim allowed himself to be helped out. He still hurt, and he was still afraid, but he was moving, mostly because he wasn't being given the choice.

They went into Vance's house and Tim sat down on a couch, looking around at a space that seemed completely alien to everything he'd experienced up to now. That apartment had been more rundown and dingy than he'd realized. Vance's home looked palatial in comparison. Tony and Gibbs were talking in low voices, leaving Tim to just sit where he was and look around. It suddenly dawned on him that he wasn't acting the way he used to. He knew that he hadn't always been so afraid of everything. He knew that he'd been able to get through a day without that paralyzing fear. He hated feeling this way and he hated that he couldn't seem to stop it.

He looked at Tony and Gibbs and realized, too, that he was finally back home and he wasn't happy about it. He knew he should be, but he wasn't.

In short, this all pretty much sucked.

Gritting his teeth, Tim pushed himself to his feet. His muscles were still weak and he still felt the ache all over and he still felt dizzy. He took a breath and forced himself to walk over, wanting to show that he wasn't a complete waste of space.

"Wh-What now?" he asked.

Tony turned to him.

"Tim, what are you doing up?"

"What now?" Tim asked again. It was so hard to focus on talking when he had to concentrate so hard on remaining upright.

Tony put an arm around Tim's waist and let Tim lean on him. It was a relief, but Tim also hated that he needed it.

"Vance is making arrangements for you to get into a rehab place. You're going there," Tony said. "We're going to take the names to Fornell and make him get to work so that, by the time you're ready, you'll be able to come back to work with no problem."

"When?"

"Now," Gibbs said.

"Now?"

"Now. Let's go."

Tony started helping Tim walk out.

"How long?" Tim asked.

"As long as it needs to be."

Tim nodded and managed, at the last second, _not_ to ask whether or not Tony would be there.

Instead, he said nothing as they loaded him back into the van, drove him to a secluded rehabilitation center...

...and left him there.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Tim woke up suddenly in the night. It was so dark. So dark.

"Tony?" he whispered.

"Agent McGee?"

A stranger. Tim didn't know where he was. He closed his eyes and tried not to freak out yet again.

"Agent McGee, just a moment."

Tim felt light seeping under his eyelids and he covered his face.

"Agent McGee, it's all right. Open your eyes."

Tim didn't want to, but he did it and looked into the kind eyes of a nurse.

"Did you have a nightmare, Agent McGee?"

She was kind, but she wasn't Tony. Tim really wanted Tony to be there, but he knew that Tony was probably happy to be done with that. So he said nothing.

"It's all right. My name is Sandra. I'm the nurse on duty for tonight. I know we're not well acquainted yet, but I think we'll have a chance to get to know one another. All right?"

Tim nodded because he knew that was expected.

"It's only about two in the morning right now. You ready to go back to sleep?"

"I don't feel safe," Tim whispered. That wasn't really adequate to explain how he felt right now, but it was the best he could do.

Sandra smiled sympathetically.

"Well, don't worry. This is a secure building. The only people allowed in and out are the staff and a pre-arranged list of visitors. No one else, Agent McGee. You're as safe here as you would be anywhere in the world. And I'll stay with you until you fall asleep."

That was probably true, but Tim felt less safe here than he had in that podunk apartment with Tony.

But this was what he had. It was what he had to accept.

He lay down and tried to take comfort in the presence of someone who was trying to help.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony woke up suddenly. It was so quiet. It wasn't good when it was _too_ quiet.

He got out of bed to check on Tim...

...before remembering that Tim wasn't here. In fact, here wasn't New York. He was back in his apartment, enjoying the feeling of a nice comfortable bed and the freedom of being able to go where he wanted and do what he wanted.

But he didn't feel all that free, he had to admit. He was still worried about Tim, and he almost wished he was at the rehab place just so that he could make sure Tim was okay. He didn't like not knowing whether or not Tim was okay. After all, while Fornell had promised to get going on this as fast as he could, he wouldn't be able to get rid of them all at once.

Tony walked out of his bedroom and into the living room. It was almost funny. He had spent the last two months slowly going stir crazy and wanting nothing more than to escape the responsibility that had been thrust upon him and now, he wanted nothing more than to pick up that responsibility again.

But he didn't _need_ to do that. Tim was in a safe place, the best rehab clinic that Vance had been able to find. It was secure. It was good. Tim would do well there. He didn't need to be checking on him when he was obviously fine.

...but really, there was nothing that said he couldn't visit. Sure, it was about three a.m., but there were special measures in place and Tony knew that he was on a very short list of people who were to be admitted.

But he didn't _need_ to be there. Wasn't this exactly what Gibbs had claimed would be a problem? Tony not being able to let go of his responsibility?

Tony didn't want Gibbs to be right about that.

He sat on his couch and thought about it. He should just go back to bed. He should wait and let Tim get acclimated to the place he would be staying in for a while.

He should really go back to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up with a start. He had no idea what time it was. He only knew that he'd heard something. There was someone in the room. He started to sit up and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, McGee. I've decided my bed is too comfortable to sleep in for now."

It was dark, but Tim recognized Tony's form as he settled down in a chair. He almost smiled.

And everything felt a lot better.

He lay back down. The room was completely silent. Tony said nothing else. Tim said nothing. Neither of them needed to.

And both of them fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Two weeks later..._

"...and so, did you know that there are actually 32 miles of trails in Rock Creek Park? Thirty-two miles! I had no idea there were so many. I don't go there very often, but I think I'll start. It's not like I _have_ to stick to the places right around my apartment. I can take the time to drive over there and get in on some of the fun. I've decided that I'm going to try them all out. Every single mile. I just want to make sure that I plan it right so that I'm not missing any of the miles. You know that it would bug me if I happened to miss..."

"Tony, how long is this phase going to last?" Ellie asked, interrupting him with a smile.

Tony grinned. "What phase?"

"This phase where you talk nonstop, all day? Not that it's not interesting and all, but..."

Tony's smile widened. "My therapist said that if I feel like I need to talk, I should feel free to talk. You can put in your head phones if you want."

"I couldn't do that! That's rude!" Ellie said as she sat down at her desk.

"I wouldn't mind, although having responses is nice on occasion, too."

Tony set his bag down and met Ellie's sympathetic gaze easily.

"I'm fine," Tony said. "I'm just still adjusting to being able to have a real conversation again. You have no idea how hard it was to just talk to myself."

"I'm getting a feeling," Ellie said. "How's Tim doing?"

Tony waggled his hand in the air. "Better in some things. Not in others."

"How was his MRI?"

"They said it's looking good, but he's still having trouble. The shrink said that some of the pain he's still feeling is less about the actual injury and more that he doesn't realize the pain is gone."

"What?"

Tony shrugged. "That's what he said. He said that Tim _shouldn't_ be feeling much pain anymore, but he is...or he says he is."

"Weird."

"Yeah."

"Well... if you let me get some work done right now, I promise to listen to you when you tell me all about the Rock Creek trails, okay?"

Tony grinned again. "Deal."

They both got to work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Two weeks later..._

Tim stared at the door. He was supposed to open it. He didn't want to open it.

He'd been staring at the door for ten minutes without moving. He knew that he'd get a nudge soon.

Still, he just sat there.

"Tim, there's nothing bad on the other side of the door."

"I know," Tim said. And it was true. He did know that there was nothing for him to worry about. It just didn't matter.

"Do you need me to help you this time?"

"I don't want to open the door," Tim said.

"I know that, but this time, you need to take that step. I won't make you do it alone, but you need to do it. The outside world isn't dangerous, not as dangerous as you're afraid it is."

"I know."

His psychiatrist stood up and walked in front of him.

"It's time, Tim. Stand up."

Tim did as he was told, still feeling that phantom ache in his muscles.

"Did it hurt?"

"A little."

"Okay. Now, walk _to_ the door."

Tim took a breath and did as he was told.

"What's out there?" he asked.

"You know what's out there. You just have to see it. Now, will you turn the knob or do you need me to?"

Tim took a step backward, but his psychiatrist wouldn't let him get away from it this time.

"Are you going to do it, Tim?"

Tim thought about it, and he knew that he had to do this. He couldn't keep relying on Tony to keep him safe. He couldn't keep hiding when he didn't need to.

"Okay, Tim. Close your eyes for a minute."

Tim did so.

"Now, breathe in deeply and let it out slowly. In and out. Keep your breath quiet and even."

Tim followed the instructions.

"Feeling better?"

"A little."

"Now, open your eyes."

There was the door again.

"Now, open the door."

Tim took a deep breath and stepped forward. His hand was shaking a little bit, true, but he reached out and grasped the knob, turned it and opened the door.

And he saw the lovely yard with green grass and trees and bright sunlight.

"Do you see what's out there, Tim?"

Tim nodded.

"The world."

"And what do you think of it?"

"It's beautiful."

"Then, go out there and enjoy it."

Tim stepped through the door.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony stared at Tim's empty desk. He had intentionally stayed away from the rehab place for a few weeks, letting them both get through that stressful period, but he still worried.

"Trying to conjure him up, Anthony?"

Tony looked over his shoulder and smiled.

"No. I know where he is, Ducky."

Ducky leaned on Tony's desk and smiled back.

"Of course you do, but I've noticed that you still seem more worried than you should be considering the fact that Timothy is quite safe and Agent Fornell is moving mountains to make sure Timothy will be even safer later on."

"I'm not worried that he's not safe. I know he is."

"Then, what worries you?"

"That he won't be able to get out of being so scared all the time."

"There is the possibility that his fear will linger. It could easily be PTSD, although I'm not sure they're diagnosing that way, but he is getting treatment. He is not being left to fight against this alone."

Tony nodded. Then, Ducky put his hand on Tony's shoulder.

"And _you_ are not abandoning him by letting him get help from professionals. I hope you're not still sleeping there?"

Tony forced a smile. "No. Actually, my shrink said I should work on that, and I'm sleeping at home. I haven't even gone out there in a few weeks. Letting him make some progress."

"And you?"

"And me."

"Good. While I don't doubt that Timothy has struggles you don't, you were stuck in that place in an unenviable position. It's hard not knowing what to do for so long."

"Yeah."

Then, suddenly, Ducky's smile widened.

"I take it that this is one of your more thoughtful days?"

"What do you mean?" Tony asked.

"I do believe that there are friendly bets being made about whether any given day will be a day where you talk or a day where you think...not that you don't do both on a regular basis."

Tony tried to decide whether he was irritated by that or not. Then, he just shrugged and smiled.

"And how accurate have they been?"

"Not at all, I believe, in part because you are _not_ one or the other without any leavening. I think there may be more disagreements on what to label your attitude on any given day than there are agreements about who won or lost."

"And are they getting anything out of it?"

"I believe the phrase I heard bandied about was 'pride not prize'. More than that, I couldn't say. I, of course, am not participating."

"Of course," Tony said, grinning himself. He couldn't tell if Ducky meant that or not.

Regardless, he was feeling a little better.

"I believe you have your own therapy today, correct?"

"Yeah. I'll be leaving soon."

"Good. And, one more thing, Anthony."

"Yeah?"

"You may talk to me anytime. Goodness knows, I'm certainly guilty of maundering on occasion."

"On occasion?" Tony repeated dubiously.

"I should cuff you for that," Ducky said with mock severity. "However, I don't want to start that particular trend up again."

"I'm okay, Ducky."

"Good, and I hope that soon enough you'll be _more_ than okay."

"I will."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Two months later..._

"Where is he?" Tony asked.

The smile on the nurse's face was enough to tell Tony what the answer was.

"Outside, and he went there all on his own."

"Really?"

"Yes. We didn't even realize he'd done it until he'd been out there for ten minutes."

"That's great!"

"Go on out and see for yourself."

Tony walked eagerly by the desk and headed out to the yard. Tim had been doing much better, and in reality, the only reason he was still here was a combination of some continued muscle weakness and fear. That Tim had left the building on his own, had gone outside without someone with him was a good sign.

He walked out the door and saw Tim lying on the grass, staring up at the sky. It was rather cloudy today, but Tim didn't seem to care about that. Tony walked over.

"Hey, Tim."

Tim jumped a little, but then, he smiled and sat up.

"Hey."

"How's it going?"

Tim shrugged a little, looked down and started playing with the grass. Clearly uncomfortable.

"None of that," Tony said, sternly. "You're not allowed to be embarrassed."

"Yes, I am," Tim said.

"No, you're not. I realize that we have all that quality time I spent bathing you and dressing you and stuff, but really, I spent a lot of my younger years in locker rooms. I'm familiar with..."

"Don't say it," Tim said, grimacing and blushing at the same time.

Tony smiled. That sounded very much like the old Tim.

"Well, it's true."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to make it explicit."

"I don't _have_ to, but..."

"Please, Tony. Don't start making me regret it."

"Regret what?"

Tim looked up and, instead of smiling, he looked earnest.

"Thank you," Tim said.

"For teasing you about..."

"For doing all that for me. I'm so sorry I called you. I don't know why I did. I still can't remember that time, a lot of those first days. It's all a blur. And even after I start remembering stuff, it's still really confused, but you were there. I'm so glad you were, but at the same time, I'm sorry you were. Gibbs would have found me in the hospital."

"Unless they'd killed you, Tim," Tony said. "Yeah, that all sucked big time. It was terrible, but it's okay. I'm glad I was there. I really am. I just wish that I could be there and _not_ be there at the same time."

Tim smiled a little and looked down.

"So...when are you leaving?"

Tony saw the slight tensing.

"I don't know."

"Can't stay here forever. Fornell has been kicking some major butt. It's a huge scandal, but they've tracked down all the major players and everyone that you listed has been arrested. Those are the only people who would have had a chance to know who you are. You're as safe as you ever are."

"I'm still scared, Tony," Tim admitted.

"Hey, I'm still so scattered that I found out a while back that they make bets on whether I'll be talking a mile a minute, _a la_ Abby, or I'll be saying almost nothing. It's usually one or the other, not much in between. But that's okay, too. I'm still seeing a shrink off and on, and you'll be seeing the shrink. You'll probably be on desk duty for a while, until you get your sea legs back."

"Bad analogy," Tim said.

Tony smiled. "Right. No sea legs. But it's fine. It's going to be fine, and the sooner you admit that I'm right, the better. Everything else I've done has turned out, right?"

Tim raised an eyebrow. There were still scars if one knew where to look for them. Most of the injuries had healed to invisibility, but there were a couple on his face, some on his hands and a discolored spot on his back (with the faintest hint of a boot sole shape) that just refused to heal up. It was like a scab under the skin. The doctor said that it would likely dissipate eventually.

Whatever that meant.

Regardless, his body was healing. The phantom pains seemed to be gone (unless Tim wasn't admitting to them anymore), and while there was still some muscle weakness, he was getting better on that score as well. And that really would get better just with continued use of his muscles.

"You came outside today. Alone. They told me. No one made you do it. You just did it. That's normal, Tim!"

"It's not normal that it's something amazing," Tim said.

"You keep doing it and it'll be normal and unamazing."

"I finally feel safe here," Tim said. "I don't feel safe out there."

"Well, you had to come here to learn to feel safe, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then, you have to go out there to learn to feel safe out there. Right?"

"Maybe."

"No. No maybe. Right? Of course, right."

"Maybe," Tim said again and smiled a little.

"Nope. You have to admit it. I'm right. You know you can't stay here. They'll kick you out eventually. Just amaze them all the more by saying you're ready to leave. They'll help you get out and then, you'll keep doing the whole therapy thing until you don't need it anymore."

"When will that be?"

"I don't know. I'm not a shrink. I just have one."

Tim was silent.

"You need to leave eventually, Tim."

Then, Tim looked up again and Tony was surprised (and happy) to see a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"What?" Tony asked.

"I've already said that I'm ready to leave."

"What?" Tony asked again, this time with much more surprise.

"This morning when they realized I'd come out here. I asked if I could leave."

Tony didn't know what to say for a moment, but then, he rallied.

"See? I'm amazed! Were they?"

"Yeah."

"Excellent. Always keep them on their toes. Me, too."

Tim was still smiling, but he took a deep breath.

"It still scares me, though."

"That's okay. You'll get over it."

"Thanks, Tony."

"You don't have to keep saying it."

"I know. I'm doing it anyway. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Three months later..._

Tim looked around the bullpen. He'd come to work really early, wanting to beat everyone (except, maybe, Gibbs) there so that he could see how he felt about sitting here, out in the open. Exposed. There was an anxiety, but he accepted that this might be something he just had to deal with for a while. He was on desk duty for now, and that was okay. He took a deep breath and looked around again. He knew this place. It wasn't like it was unfamiliar, but it had been so long since he'd been here that he sometimes worried that it wasn't _his_ place anymore.

But he knew this place. Like every other stage, this was just getting back to the things he already knew, accepting that there wasn't really a problem, that there wasn't some major risk to letting people know where he was.

The elevator dinged. It wasn't Gibbs. It was Tony.

"Hey, McGee!" Tony said. "I didn't know today was your first day. You just like keeping things from me, right? All this time we spent together, all that time I spent doing..."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Tim said. For something that clearly had made Tony uncomfortable, he sure brought up the whole giving-Tim-a-bath thing up a lot.

"Well, it is. Glad to see you back here. The desk looked empty without you."

"Are you sure you want anything to do with me, Tony?" Tim asked. "I mean, you had to help me all that time because of what had happened, but now... Do you really want to have anything to do with me?"

Tony walked over and put an arm around Tim's shoulders. One of the first times in months they'd been in contact with _out_ Tony helping him stay up right.

"There's some stuff that Abby's been working on with our latest case. I'll bring you up to speed."

"Okay."

Tony started leading Tim toward the elevator.

"And of course I want to have something to do with you. Just promise me one thing, Probie."

"What's that?" Tim asked.

"Promise me that I'll never have to give you a bath again."

Tim laughed.

"I promise, barring any unforeseens. I promise...with every fiber of my being."

Tony laughed, too.

And the two of them went down to the lab to start their work day.

A normal day.

FINIS!


End file.
